


Coffee and Cream

by Rhyske



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Artistic Reader, Drama, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Monster racists, Romance, Slow Burn, Some angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6319774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhyske/pseuds/Rhyske
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crazy gift from a father to a daughter is just that, crazy. With college and life weighing on your shoulders, the last thing you want is one more thing to stress about. But with your best friend pushing your back, the once empty building bustles to life, drawing in all kinds of personalities and faces, opening doors once nonexistent and spinning colors you didn't know could mix. Life can be hectic, but sitting down and sharing some coffee and cream with friends can be the sweetest highlight in the story called life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spontaneous

Your father could be explained as many things, but the one word that would pop out the most and slip from people’s tongues would be the word ‘spontaneous.’ A word that tinkled quite sweetly in a person’s voice when spoken, and fit perfectly with the man that helped raise you. This honeyed four syllable sound can’t help but find its way to your mind as you stare at the keys in your hand with occasional, and disbelieving, glances up at the empty building before you. Dark and presumably dusty, it didn’t take up too much space on the busy street you currently resided, fitting quite nicely between a small bookstore and the curb.

The occasional passerby glances at your frozen and hunched form curiously, their knowledge deaf to your current confusion as you stare at the keys in your hand. Every so often your eyes will stray from the shiny keys lying on your palm to the relatively spacious and empty structure, an itch to draw your phone out of your warm pocket growing with each passing second before you give in, tapping the familiar name on the screen and holding up the speaker to your ear.

A few short rings keep you waiting before your father picks up. “Hello, sweetie!”

“Dad,” you answer monotonously. “Mind explaining?”

You can easily picture the sly smile he’s sure to have. “What ever do you mean?”

“Dad.” Shifting your weight to your other foot, a sigh escapes your lips as you remember the reason for your constant headaches. “What are you planning?”

“Why must every nice thing I do always seem suspicious to you?”

“Because sending your daughter a letter that simply has directions with mysterious keys to accompany them totally isn’t suspicious.” Pinching the bridge of your nose with a thumb and forefinger, you cringe as the keys jingle from the motion.

“Hey, you’re gonna like this surprise.” Hearing the creak of a chair bending back, you roll your eyes in anticipation. “I remember you saying how you were looking for a job.”

“Yeah.” 

“I thought it strange, since you really don’t need it. It’s not like we’re hurting for money.” Your dad was the president of a quite successful company, which was the reason he traveled nearly all over the world, causing havoc each step of the way. He was good with business, but was a child in nearly everything else he did. You suspected that if he didn’t own the damn company himself, he would have been fired quite a long time ago. Or perhaps been kept, for all the outrageous and somehow successful ideas that always blossomed from his labyrinth of a mind. “But then I became proud. My baby girl wants to branch out and grow up! So I got to thinking.” Thinking was never good for the receiving end when it came to him. “Why not start up your own little business? Your birthday is right around the corner too. Perfect gift!”

“Dad.” Why did you have to be his daughter? “Dad, I go to college. I don’t have time to run a business.”

An exasperated sigh reaches your ear, a sigh you think should be coming from you, not him. “Okay, I suppose you won’t be the one running it, just the one managing it. I’ll be paying for all the bare utilities, while you take care of what happens inside it. Who to hire, what to stock, things like that.”

“Dad.”

“Oh stop. This will be good for you, trust me. Just take a look around and let me know what you want to do with it, alright? Numbing your mind with stress and grades isn’t how to become successful, in life or with yourself.”

With a quick goodbye, you’re left with a silent phone in one hand and warm keys in the other. Sighing once more and feeling the pressure of a headache that’s sure to last, you find the key to the front door and push it in, a jingle from above causing a small jump from your form as a curse leaves your mouth.

Twirling the key ring around an index finger, you find the light switch and illuminate the inside, stifling a sneeze that tickles your nose as your movement kicks up settled dust. A counter on the far side of the wall sits in front of a door you assume leads to a back room fit for storage, and the cheap looking light above doesn’t help with the clinging gloom the place exudes. Running a finger across one of the abandoned wooden tables, a frown graces your lips as your digit pulls away with an impressive layer of dust, a disgusting line left on the surface. 

“He really expects me to clean this up all by myself?” you ask in the silence, hearing not even an echo back. “He’s crazy.” Not something you didn’t know already, but it was always nice to remind yourself every once in a while of your unfortunate lineage. 

~*~*~

While pondering over your father’s potential brain damage was always fun, a more prominent problem loomed in your face. He gave you no direction with the place. Just pushed keys into your hand and told you to basically have fun. Once the initial shock had worn off, another phone call had ensued, one where he explained how much money he would let you use to fix the place up before the final “allowance” was given and you’d start actually managing the place. 

The fact he didn’t seem worried at all about the place possibly failing caused anxiety to birth butterflies in your twisted stomach, which in turn caused your pencil to tap rhythmically on a piece of paper as you budgeted all the money into something that could work, thankful for all your business classes you’d endured so far in your college career.

“I swear you have the eyes of someone who just witnessed the world end.”

Looking up from your scribbles, your red haired best friend takes a seat across from you on the picnic table, green eyes holding sympathy and amusement. Flora Whinter, a girl that had broken all odds and remained in all of your classes throughout elementary and middle school, and happened to be in at least two for each semester in high school. A girl with a smile that could rival the sun and a personality as hot as fire, you could never ask for a more loyal friend who loved nothing better than to tease you at every turn in your life.

Her laugh rings through the air as you give her your famous unamused look. “I have no idea what to do, Flora.”

Glancing at your paper, she simply shrugs and removes her backpack. “I’d say, getting it clean and presentable is the first step.”

“But what should I do with it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Make it a bookstore? A restaurant? Café?”

Pressing a delicate finger to her lips, a pause shows her thinking. “I’d like to see a café.” Giving a wink, she unzips her pack and drags out a heavy business book, flipping it open to the page with homework. “Sometimes I wish I had your father.”

“You’re lucky you don’t.” Sighing and throwing down your pencil, fingers run through your hair as you lean back. “Who gives their child a freaking empty building for their birthday?”

Another laugh escapes Flora. “Your dad, apparently. But this opens up so much in your life.” A pencil waves in your face before being set down. “You’ve been doing nothing but filling up your days with classes. Sometimes I wonder if you even sleep.” Flipping open a journal, she gives you a look. “And it seems I’m not the only one worried about your health. Besides, you were talking about looking for a job anyway.”

“But giving me a building? Really?”

“It’ll give you something else to do besides stress and think. And of course I’ll be helping you. So!” Clapping her hands together, her wide smile spells nothing but excitement. “We should start with hiring people to help clean up and get the place ready to be opened!”

Resting your head against the surface of the table, you ask, “But who is going to want to take a job like that?”

“You’d be surprised. After all, there are a lot of unfortunate monsters with no income.”

Monsters. A concept only in fairy tales until about a year ago when monsters of all shapes and sizes flooded out of Mt. Ebott, scaring the whole Earth’s populace to near death. Just like with anything they weren’t familiar with, humans as a whole took it quite hard, racism popping up almost immediately despite the agreements and laws implemented to make monster life easier on the surface. Frankly, it was disgusting to see monsters shamed for simply being what they were, but you were thankful there was at least some progress for their equality, even if it was slow, and as you ponder on this thought you’re suddenly a tad thankful for what you’ve been given.

If there was anything you enjoyed doing, it was helping others in need. And this abandoned building handed to you out of the blue could change the lives of many. Suddenly it didn’t seem like such a burden.

Reading each and every thought, Flora simply smiles and leans to pat your head. “There you go. It may be a lot of work, but isn’t this kind of how your dad started? And look at where he is now, donating thousands to charity and helping fight for monster rights. And you’ve always taken after him in that regard.”

That was true. Even as a small, shy child you had never hesitated to stand up for someone. But there was still one problem. “I have no idea what I’m doing though. I may be good with numbers, but I’ve never had to actually handle a real business. One wrong miscalculation and it could come tumbling down.”

With a nonchalant shrug, your friend just raises an eyebrow. “Guess we’ll just have to see, huh?” Drawing lead over a blank piece of paper, a hum escapes her chest. “So…we should create some flyers and hand them out to unsuspecting people. Creating an ad on the internet wouldn’t hurt either. What do you say?”

Waving a hand and groaning, you reply, “I say whatever. Go for it.”

Smiling, her next words never sounded more truthful. “I have a feeling I’m going to have a lot more fun with this than you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeaaahhh... The first chapter is a bit short, but bare with me! I have lots planned for this! Fluff, drama, suspense...


	2. Eccentric

“Okay. When you said that we’d be handing out fliers, I didn’t expect that it would just be you.” Leaning against the doorframe with a huff, you watch tiredly as Flora bustles from one person and monster to another, chatting excitedly and waving eagerly, an endless ball of energy.

Hearing your voice and turning to you with a smile, she gives an innocent shrug. “The more we work on getting the place clean, the sooner we can get it open! Right? And besides, it’s not like you’re paying me to do this. Now, if you were…” Allowing her voice to drop off, she winks in response to your tongue sticking out in her direction. 

You couldn’t argue with her though. While you stressed about the budget and schoolwork, she had designed and printed out lovely fliers and even posted a few ads on multiple websites, all in a night’s work. Not that too much energy was needed for something like that, you mused as you turned back into the dusty building, rolling up your drooping sleeves. Grabbing the mop in gloved hands, you set back to work clearing all the grime from the once abandoned structure, humming along with the music drifting from a nearby stereo.

It was a slow and painful process. More than half of the place was still blanketed in dust, your sore lungs the result of attempting to dislodge some and regretting all of your life decisions as you nearly died on the building’s doorstep, Flora laughing at every second of your torture. Once you were able to breathe somewhat regularly, you resolved to simply making the floors somewhat less disgusting to walk on, feet occasionally slipping on a wet spot left by the mop and flailing like a fish out of water as you prayed to anything that would listen to not pitch over and have an impromptu bath in the murky water. 

And all Flora got to do was enjoy the nice weather that teased you every time you looked up.

“It is nice out there!” comments said best friend as she steps in and grabs a chair, placing the pile of fliers on a nearby table and stretching. “Spring is right around the corner!”

“Flora.” Giving you a look, you gesture at yourself. “I would do anything to be in your position. I will not tolerate whining.”

Raising an eyebrow, arms are crossed. “You’re not my boss.”

“Keep this up and I’ll never be.”

Drawing her long, curly hair back and drawing a band from her wrist, she retorts, “Hah! Joke’s on you, I didn’t wanna work here anyway!”

You wonder how high her scream would pitch if you kicked the soapy bucket of water at her.

“Something evil is going through that brain and I don’t want to know what it is. I was even thinking about feeding you too.” Shaking her head in mock disappointment, she uncaps a water bottle.

The instant mention of food coerces your stomach into speaking and you nearly drop the sandwich tossed to you in your starved excitement.

“You act like I haven’t fed you in days,” she laughs as you drag a chair next to her, stealing the water bottle in the process.

“You haven’t, actually. I’ve had to go out and buy my own food.”

“Very disgraceful.”

“This is what you’ve made me.”

Rolling her eyes, she directs them back outside. “I wonder what this place will look like all done up.”

“I’m still reeling from the fact that dad gave this to me.”

“You should be used to his randomness by now.”

Slouching in your seat, a sigh escapes your lips. “Right when I think I am, this happens.” A hand is waved for emphasis. “I’m also surprised that I’m actually here cleaning. Why am I here again?”

The meaning is clear in the green hues that meet your own, worry and apprehension peeking behind carefully constructed walls of nonchalance and mischief. Guilt tugs your heart as brows furrow in a forced smile, eyes breaking from hers as you look down at your lunch. The tension residing in the air lasts only but a moment as your friend suddenly bursts into song, pitch matching the one coming from the radio and pushing all the negativity away, even if temporarily.

Laughter escapes your chest in bubbles, a knowing grin painted on the red head’s face as she picks up the stack of fliers and quite literally spins her way to the door, bowing dramatically before exiting. Taking a few seconds to compose yourself, not that anyone was watching anyway, you down the rest of your sandwich and get back to work, migrating from mopping to sweeping. 

You’re not alone in the dim and dark building for long, however, as Flora’s voice grabs your attention and your vision rises to a blue scaled monster with a halo of red hair. Dressed in casual clothing, the first thing you notice is the wide grin sitting comfortably on her face and the roaming, yellow slitted eye taking in the run down appearance of the soon to be café, the other covered behind a black eyepatch. Leaning the broom against the counter, your questioning gaze shifts from the stranger to Flora.

“This place is a literal dump.” Hooking her thumbs in her pockets, the monster turns to face you. “Like, wow.”

A smile comes unnoticed to your lips. “Yes, that was the first thing to cross my mind too.”

“[Name], this is Undyne. She’s interested in helping us.”

Slipping a grime crusted glove free, you offer a hand in greeting, relieved when she takes it without hesitation. “It’s nice to meet you.”

A nod accompanies her next words. “Same.” Taking another look around, she continues. “So you’re hiring?”

“That I am,” you agree, freeing your other hand and running clean fingers through dust covered locks. “All that’s really required for now is not being bothered to get a little dirty.”

Waving a hand dismissively, blue shoulders rise in a shrug. “I’m used to work outs. Even if I wasn’t, I’d suck it up. I can’t keep relying on my girl to bring in all the money.”

You chuckle. “Alright then. I can pay a little over minimum wage for now. All I ask in return is that you be a little patient with me, since I’m completely new to this whole owning a business thing.” Grabbing a flier from Flora, you dig into your pockets for a pen and begin to write, asking for Undyne’s availability and how often she’d be willing to work before handing over a spare set of gloves and setting her free.

Undyne was a good worker, although a bit of a hot head which was made clear when she almost broke the window in a rush to escape a threatening cloud of dust, curses following in her wake as she nearly tripped out the door in desperation and almost knocking down Flora in the street. Stalking back in with rage and impressive looking spears hovering by her head, it took bribing with a break and free food to calm the fish monster enough to put away the dangerous looking weapons, though a scowl remained for a time after. Declaring almost being run over and almost dying enough excitement for one day, Flora takes her leave with a mention of the time and a customary wink, and not long after her departure you yourself decide to call it a day.

“Thanks for your help today, Undyne,” you say as you pat yourself down, trying to dislodge as much grime and dirt as you can.

“Don’t mention it, nerd. I’m over the moon that you actually hired me!” Grinning from ear to ear, she mimics your movements, stifling a sneeze. “Alphys is gonna be so happy to hear I finally have a job!”

“Alphys?” you ask, turning off the stereo.

“My girl.” The smile she gives warms the heart, and you can’t help but smile back.

“I’m sure she’ll be proud.” Tucking the stereo into your backpack, you move to collect all the cleaning utensils. 

Pulling the closet door out to return the mop and bucket, Undyne holds it open for you. “So what made you decide to clean this place up?”

“Nothing, really.” Nodding thanks for her kind gesture, you carefully lean the broom against the wall. “My dad was the one that decided it was a good idea.”

“He gave you a dump?” The surprise in her voice makes you laugh.

“Welcome to my dad.” 

“That’s really weird. He must be rich, then.”

“He’s successful, yeah.” Crossing to the sink and turning the faucet, you stick your hands under the clear water. “Though this is the most bizarre present he’s ever given me. An upside is that there’s a bookstore right next door.”

A sudden intake of breath sounds from the blue scaled monster, eliciting an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “That’s right! Alphys wanted me to pick up her new book today! That’s what I was on my way to do before I saw your friend passing out the fliers!”

“You’re free to go, if you want. Mostly everything is put up.” Drying off your hands, you turn with a smile.

A short pause passes between you two before Undyne breaks into another one of her grins. “You are the best! Thanks, punk! See you tomorrow!” Waving excitedly, she hurries out the door and disappears, leaving you alone in the run down structure.

Yet for some reason, you don’t feel as lonely as you thought you should, a smile staying on your face the rest of the day.

~*~*~

Kicking the door to your apartment closed with a sigh, you nearly stumble out of your shoes in the rush to get to the bathroom, shedding your dirty clothes with a contented sigh and standing under the steaming water for what felt like hours, scrubbing your skin red until you were sure all the dirt and dust were washed away. Encompassing your now squeaky clean self in comfortable clothing, you pad into the quiet living room, dragging your backpack over to the couch and allowing the cushions to suck you in.

Turning on the TV, you watch distractedly, running the events of the day through your head. A routine had been made at the start of the school semester, consisting of attending classes and spending every minute of your day engulfed in your studies. You were more than halfway through your curriculum, chapters ahead of the rest of your peers. It wasn’t that studying was interesting or even fun, but it kept your mind occupied, preventing it from wandering to territories that were dangerous, territories that you weren’t eager to venture to. But all of that was thrown out the window when your dad sent you those keys, as if he’d known it would prevent your school books from being touched for a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of positive response to my first chapter was surprising and amazing! Thank you guys so much! I'm so glad you enjoy what I've written! Hopefully I continue to not disappoint!


	3. Fortuitous

**_\--From: Flora_**  
**_\--To: [Name]_**  
_So I was thinking you should go with a creamy brown._

 

Tapping your phone and reading the message, your pencil threatens to roll off the journal as you shift, bumping into the textbook resting at your side.

 

 ** _\--From: [Name]_**  
**_\--To: Flora_**  
_What are you even talking about?_

 

It takes but a moment for your phone to light with the response.

 

 ** _\--From: Flora_**  
**_\--To: [Name]_**  
_The wall color, of course! While I like the yellowed white in the place, it lacks a certain taste._

 

 ** _\--From: [Name]_**  
**_\--To: Flora_**  
_You just rhymed._

 

 ** _\--From: Flora_**  
**_\--To: [Name]_**  
_Raffia Cream looks nice._

 

Smiling as Flora ignores your comment, arms stretch as you rise from your position on the couch, the indent of your bottom evident on the cushion. Padding over to the kitchen, you fill up a glass of water and lean against the counter, debating where you should go for the day as the loneliness of the apartment seeps under your skin. Glancing out the window and taking note of the sun and growing green of spring, a walk to the park and change of scenery for studying doesn’t seem like such a bad idea, this thought spurring your actions as you pack your bag and shrug on a light hoodie. 

Slipping into short heeled boots and double checking you have everything, including wallet and phone, you send a quick response to Flora to do as she’d like as you lock the door and step into the chilly air, shifting your backpack more comfortably on your shoulders as you meld into the small crowds on the sidewalks. 

Sadness drags at your heart as you note the obvious spaces between monster groups and human groups, said human groups either ignoring everyone around them or taking time to give the monsters looks as they passed them by. These gaps between races were evident all over, from segregated establishments to the few monster only schools. It was illegal for any sort of segregation, but unspoken rules and regularities littered society, monsters not wanting confrontation and humans not wanting anything to do with monsters, which led to a gap that was clear to all but the smallest of children. Only those either dumb enough or brave enough, depending on who you asked, ignored societal rules and treated both races the same, usually spurring the unwanted result of being lumped with the monsters and essentially getting the treatment they received once your face was known. You could only thank that the government was tolerable and at least tried.

Drawing your hood up in an attempt to warm your reddened ears, feet finally reach the perimeter of the park, mind occupied with thoughts as you single out a picnic table under a budding tree, setting down your heavy bag as you lower yourself down. Drawing out your school books and journals, you click your mechanical pencil for lead, flipping to the homework you were in the middle of before Flora had interrupted. 

Before you can mark your paper, however, you find your body flying back as your face takes an impact, momentum throwing you to the ground and knocking all breath from your lungs. Wheezing and pressing both hands do your aching face, you don’t even hear the footsteps rushing your way until a hand delicately touches your arm, and you don’t even register the sticky wetness flowing between your fingers until you shift to look at the source of the touch. Wide, panicked eyes fill your vision as you turn your head, expression one of horror as they take in the dark red dripping from your chin.

It’s then that it finally sinks in that you’re bleeding, scrabbling up so you’re hunched over the grass and no longer drenching the rest of your now ruined hoodie. Eyes watering and skin stinging, a quick glance around shows a ball sitting not far from where you reside, the culprit to your pain. A groan reaches your ears, surprised to find it came from your own throat.

“Oh my goodness!” another set of feet reach your eardrums, the face of a monster bending down and her palm to your cheek. “Are you alright?”

“Ah, I think?” you respond as the sensation of tears trail down your skin, shifting out of her touch so you don’t stain her fur. “Just, uh…surprised.” That was on way to put it.

“You’re bleeding!” Fumbling in her pockets, she takes out a handkerchief and offers it to you. Accepting it thankfully, you try not to shiver at the warm, wet fabric brushing your wrist as you remove your hand to set the handkerchief in place. “I am so sorry!”

“It’s fine,” you smile out. “It’s not the first time I’ve been hit in the face by a ball, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

Your attempt at humor falls flat as her eyes shimmer. In the corner of your eye you watch as the child, on closer inspection one reaching preadolescent years and a head full of brown hair, gesture with their hands furiously. It’s only until the goat looking monster nods and turns to you that you notice the use of sign language. 

“Frisk says they’re sorry and wants to make it up to you.” Pressing a furred hand to her chest, she adds, “As do I. Please, allow us to at least clean you up and treat you to lunch.”

Shifting the handkerchief, you look at your reddened hands and consider her proposition. “My house isn’t too far from here.”

The child, Frisk, moves their hands again, and instantly the woman translates. “They say they want to take you back and make sure you’re okay. Of course, they speak for the both of us.”

Usually your response would be to politely decline, as allowing strangers to know where you live never seemed very appealing, but the honesty in her voice draws you in, and the look of worry and guilt etched onto both of their expressions tug at your heart. Giving but another moment to consider, you slowly nod, wincing at the movement. “Sure. Why not?”

Relief flooding through their chests, a hand is offered to you as the woman rises. “I’m Toriel. The little one with me is Frisk.”

Raising your free hand to indicate the blood, you instead stand on your own, vision swaying for only a moment. “[Name]. It’s nice to meet you.” Glancing at your bag and schoolbooks, you debate how you’re going to jam everything back into your backpack without leaving bloody prints on everything.

As if reading your mind, Toriel moves and, after a nod from you, collects your things. Her movements are graceful and careful, a sort of regal bearing surrounding her. Frisk, on the other hand, has the air of a healthy child, a smile now gracing their lips as they roll on the balls of their feet. Unable to hide the smile painting your features, you slip off your hoodie and sling it over your shoulder, careful to hide the bloodied front and the reddened hand that didn’t hold the kerchief. Toriel looks at you for a moment before nodding, understanding your motions, her smile thankful. A quick smile in response flashes her way before you retrace your steps back home.

Thankfully nobody you pass hassles either of you as you cross the streets, Frisk’s presence you assume being the result of that. Fumbling with the keys, you finally fling the door open to your small abode and step in, inviting the two behind you as you motion for Toriel to simply place your bag by the door. Heading straight for the bathroom, you peer into the mirror and laugh.

“You really did a number on me, kid,” you say as they stand by the doorframe uncertainly, thumbs twirling in a nervous dance. “Thankfully my nose is still looking the same as it did this morning. The sad part is, no battle scars.” Grinning, their smile in return eases your nerves as you set the kerchief down and turn on the faucet, grabbing a clean washcloth from under the sink.

“You have a nice place here, [Name],” speaks Toriel, appearing to stand behind Frisk. “Very cozy.”

“Thank you.” Carefully, you start washing the blood from your skin.

“We both are truly sorry,” you hear her say as you wince, face still tender.

“Don’t worry about it, really.” Running the cloth under the water, you reapply it, tracing around your nose and chin. “You, Frisk, are either a genius marksman or the worst shot ever.”

A small pause cuts between the conversation. “Frisk says they prefer a genius marksman.”

Laughing, you give the kid a thumbs up. “I’d prefer that too.” Sighing, the cloth lowers as you give yourself a close inspection. Sure you had gotten all the blood, you nod and turn for the door, maneuvering around Frisk as you toss the cloth, handkerchief, and ruined hoodie into the laundry room for later. Surprised when a hand tugs your shirt, you bend down and allow the brunette’s eyes to roam your face. “I’m all good. See?”

Giving a determined nod, a smile finds their lips as they hurry to the door. Giving Toriel a questioning look, she chuckles. “They’re eager to get to know you better. And to get food in their stomach.”

Rummaging through the closet and shrugging on another hoodie, you realize with disdain that nobody had taken off their shoes except for Toriel, bless her. “You don’t have to worry about paying for me. I have enough money.”

“I insist,” she frowns, following you back out into the street.

“Really, I feel like I should treat you, for being so considerate.” Feeling Frisk’s hand slip into yours, an eyebrow raises along with a smile. “So let me pay for myself, please. I’ll also make sure to wash your handkerchief and return it. It’s only the right thing to do,” you add hastily as Toriel opens her mouth to object. 

Sighing in defeat, a nod follows her words. “Fine.”

“Good. Now, have any idea of where we’re gonna go? If you want to stay outside, we can always get something to go and go back to the park.” Tilting your head to Frisk, you ask, “What do you want to do?”

Letting go of your hand to sign, their palm returns to yours as Toriel roughly translates. “That sounds good. Something simple, then? Portable?”

Tapping your toe to the cement in thought, a recommendation for fast food passes your lips, met with a frown from Toriel and an excited smile from Frisk. It doesn’t take long for the monster to give in, and soon the three of you are on your way to the closest fast food place. Chats ensue, where you learn about Frisk’s adoption and how difficult it was shortly following the barrier’s disappearance, about Toriel’s search in finding a small house for them both, Frisk’s reintroduction to school and their role in human-monster relations. The last one was a surprise, a simple thumbs up in place of a sign as you look at them with raised eyebrows. Compared to them, your life story didn’t seem very interesting, and you were content to simply sit and listen, occasionally commenting to keep the conversation going.

“What about you, [Name]?” asks Toriel when all the food is eaten and you and Frisk bat wrappers to each other across the picnic table.

“What about me? I’m just a college student.” Flicking the wrapper and laughing when Frisk ducks, the paper whisking by their shoulder, you add, “Though I’m going to be the owner of a café soon.”

“Really? What café?”

Blocking a wrapper from hitting your face, you respond, “Don’t know yet. But when it’s all ready, I’d love for you two to drop by sometime.”

“We would love to.” Zipping open her purse, she digs through it. “Would you mind terribly if I asked for your phone number?”

“Not at all,” you reply, carefully taking the cell phone handed to you. “I need to give your handkerchief back somehow, right?”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“This time I’m the one insisting.” Handing back the device, you laugh as Frisk waves their own in the air, a grin splitting their face as you take it. “Besides, I enjoyed today. Thank you, both of you. And,” setting the phone back in the child’s hand, you smile. “I’d really like it if you taught me some sign language. So I can understand you without someone translating.” A thumbs up brings a laugh from you and a wide smile from Toriel. 

You spend another half hour with the duo before Toriel says they need to get going, something about keeping a play date with a person named Papyrus. Thanking them once again for their time, and reassuring them no harm had been done for earlier that day, you wave goodbye as you follow the familiar trail leading back home, a smile seemingly permanent on your face even after you’ve kicked off your shoes and gone to see if you hoodie could be salvageable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot of fun to write, I won't lie.  
> Anyway, I know Frisk can technically speak in the game, I really like the idea of them being mute. Also for the fact that, since Frisk is made to project yourself onto them, them being mute just seems better, even if I'm giving them a sort of personality anyway.  
> And wow why is formatting so picky here on archive? Jeezus.


	4. Epoch

You were certain if you stared at the duster with any more intensity it’d catch fire, and maybe the scowl that’d been directed its way for the past half hour would stick permanently to your face. Neither of these probabilities worried you though as you move to pick the duster up, only to stop halfway and sigh in frustration. It had to be done eventually, but you’d rather it be done in a place your lungs weren’t in any danger to be coughed to pieces.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” comes Flora’s drawl, eyes rolling at your shenanigans and leaning back in her chair. “Seriously though, I’m not going to start until you do, because I know if I start first you won’t help me.”

“Can’t we just…wait until Undyne gets here?” you ask hopefully, patting dust from your shirt. “What time is it?”

“Time to get a watch.” This time it’s your eyes rolling as Flora digs in her pockets for her phone. “Ten minutes to three. She should be here soon.”

“It’s really only been an hour and a half since we’ve eaten?” Ignoring the small pang of hunger gnawing at your stomach, you debate giving the duster a flick. 

“I’m more sitting on the fact that it’s been almost two weeks since starting this project.” Giving the place a look around, she adds, “It’s looking much better than it did.”

Indeed it was. Having spent the entire time washing down the floors, walls, and windows and debating whether new tables and chairs were needed before throwing out all but one and a few chairs thanks to Flora’s insistence on the new café not having lazy taste, the only thing that needed to be done before painting and redecorating was getting rid of the dust and cobwebs residing in the corners and backrooms. 

“We’ve done a lot of progress for only three people,” you agree, stretching your arms. “I’m glad I have you to decorate the place. And that Undyne knows about kitchen equipment.”

“Are you punks talking about me behind my back?” Heads swerve to watch the blue scaled monster walk in, a grin tracing her lips. “Because I’m pretty sure I heard my name.”

Popping your chair up on its back legs, you reply sarcastically, “Nah, we weren’t talking bad about you at all. Honest.”

“Good, because I’m totally not looking for any reason to escape the dusty hellhole this place is going to become.” Glancing at the duster in front of you with mirrored disdain, her expression changes with the subject. “Also, dude, [Name], you never told me you knew Toriel and Frisk.”

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, you respond. “Not until a few days ago. You know them?”

“Totally! They’re like, two of my closest friends!” Grabbing a seat across from you and beside Flora, she asks, “How did you meet them? Frisk wouldn’t tell me anything except how much fun they had and how cool you were.”

Laughing, you wonder if you’re really as cool as the child thinks. “A ball used my face as a stopping point.”

It takes a moment for realization to dawn on both of your friends’ faces, laughter ensuing shortly after. “I knew you were a magnet for trouble,” speaks Flora first, holding her sides. “But that’s taking it quite literally!”

“I knew training that kid would pay off! They have more strength than they know!” is Undyne’s comment, a smug, proud look about her face.

You can’t help but smile at their reactions. “You’re kind of right there, Undyne. They gave me a bloody nose. Completely ruined one of my hoodies.”

“You must be tougher than you look. I don’t see any bruises on you!” Giving a thumbs up, she crosses her legs. “Speaking of which, Alphys is coming over with food later. She’s been trying her hand at cooking, and while she’s talented at a lot of things, she keeps trying to experiment with recipes and, well…” Seesawing an open palm, she shrugs. “Papyrus is helping her, so it shouldn’t be too bad. Don’t tell my baby I said this about her.”

“My lips are sealed.” You press an index finger to your lips.

“Good, because I have no problem ending your life, punk. Same goes for you.” With a nod and thumbs up from Flora, the fish monster relaxes, the mood in the building turning suddenly serious. “So… it’s dusting day.”

All three pairs of eyes rest on the accursed duster on the table. The air is tense as nobody makes a move, not willing to cross that line and endanger their life. The door and all the windows were open for this moment, a pleasant breeze ruffling clothes and lifting the duster’s feathers teasingly.

“I was thinking…” Flora’s voice is small. “Wouldn’t using a cloth to wipe the dust away be better than just throwing the dust everywhere with a feather duster?”

Incredulous hues lock onto her form, emotions ranging from excitement to embarrassment until finally settling on one – relief.

Pointing to Flora, Undyne stands with a grin. “That is the most beautiful idea I have ever heard!” Rushing over to the kitchen where all the spare washrags were kept, she shouts in her wake, sounding as if it were the best news in her entire life, “Fill up the buckets! We’re going to live, dorks!”

A short glance shoots between you and Flora before you two do just that, dragging out the trusty buckets, slipping on some gloves, and setting to work. Undyne takes the lobby, Flora the kitchen, and you the backroom, propping the exit door open with a trashcan so you didn’t suffocate while ignoring the curious looks directed your way.

Rumor of an old building getting remodeled had traveled through the town by now, your hard work already paying off as groups of both monsters and humans slow their strides to peer curiously inside the windows, toothy grins or pompous frowns flashing your way as Undyne is noticed. Pretending to ignore the obvious glares from certain schoolmates was made easy with Flora constantly hanging around, nervous jitters twisting your stomach when she wasn’t. Self-important humans would remain ignorant and deftly stupid, a fact you reminded yourself of daily to calm your thoughts enough to think of more productive things, like what to name your new café and the hours it would be open.

Information you remained continuously stuck on and hoped one of the other two minds in the building would eventually help once you got around to voicing your troubles. Not that Flora needed any words from you since you were, as she said, an ‘open book’ with a ‘heart always displayed on your sleeve,’ but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Flora and Undyne were the only two runners for being managers aside from you and a good line of command demanded good communication, something you weren’t too worried about as you listen through the cracked door to Flora break into song and Undyne following shortly after, comments about the other’s horrible singing deftly following.

Humming to your own tune, you’re unaware of time passing as you work your way through one side of the room to the other, careful to get every shelf and corner. It’s not until you spot an unusually thick mob of cobwebs that your rhythm falters, suspicion and nearly every alarm bell bouncing inside your skull as you hesitantly approach, eyeing the ball that looked suspiciously like an egg sac. Looking around for anything you could use as a poking device since you were more than a little against getting any part of you close without knowing what you were getting close to, a quick detour out into the alley reveals a few sticks you graciously accept. Fight or flight making you edgy, you hesitantly touch the end of the stick to the sac, heart pounding and lungs holding stale breath. Two more pokes prompt nothing, and just as you’re about to lower your guard with a tense sigh, it breaks.

A pitch you didn’t even know your voice box could produce rips from your throat as a wave of dark, small arachnids flow from the webs, spreading out in a radius across the wall, scrabbling onto nearby shelves and scuttling across the floor straight for you. Nearly tripping on your own feet and stumbling as your boots scuff the side of the bucket, sloshing water down your pant leg, you bolt out of the backroom and through the kitchen, an absent Flora unable to smirk at your panic, and you can’t throw the door leading to the lobby open fast enough. In the haze of your blind terror, you don’t notice the figure standing on the other side of the threshold until it’s too late, blue fabric filling your vision as you tumble to the ground, taking the stranger with you.

What little breath you had escapes from your lungs in a whoosh, expecting impact with the hard, unforgiving floor but instead finding your landing quite soft. Cheeks pressed against an unfamiliar chest, you blink as the situation attempts to sink in, a surprised voice rising from below grabbing your attention.

“you alright, kid?”

The deep and somewhat sultry sound throws confusion into your already jumbled mind, and it’s not until you finally shift and raise your head that things start to click, albeit slowly. The first thing you see is the uncertain smile on the skull’s expression, white pinpricks resting in dark eye sockets following your every move. The blue hoodie over the white t-shirt follows, the answer for what you had landed on falling into place. 

Noticing your wide eyes and slightly open mouth, you watch as the smile turns into a grin. “i know i’m very _**sans**_ ational, but if you keep staring like that, i’mma start blushing.”

And with that your cheeks light up like the nights of the Fourth of July as you jerk back, hurriedly scrambling to your feet. “Oh my god I am so sorry! Are you okay? Shit, you took most of the impact! I’m so sorry! Please tell me you’re okay!” Apologies continue to spew from your mouth as you remember to offer your hand, pressing a boney palm to your own as you assist him back onto his feet. “Oh, I am so sorry!”

“it’s fine, kid.”

Before you can respond, a snicker breaks through your panic and you finally look around, noticing everyone’s stares, some with shock and worry and others with pure amusement. Flora, one hand to her mouth and the other around her stomach, tries hard not to laugh while Undyne doesn’t even try, tears springing to the fish monster’s eye. A terrified looking short, yellow monster glances between you and the figure you had ungraciously ran into with worry, a hesitant, “A-are you okay?” passing her lips and a tall skeleton in a pose that looked like he had jumped up ready to help but stopped halfway looks uncertain.

“Dude, Sans!” chokes out Undyne, wiping at her eye, “I never thought I’d see you get taken down so easily!”

“ARE YOU OKAY, BROTHER? HUMAN?” comes the tall skeleton.

“I’m, uh.” Extremely embarrassed. “I’m fine? I think?” Looking down and away, feeling your face burning like a furnace, you shift nervously.

“i’m fine, pap.” Stuffing hands into his hoodie pockets and grinning leisurely, you can’t help but peek up at your victim. Standing a few centimeters shorter than you, the skeleton – Sans, was it? – entertains the air of nonchalance, as if he hadn’t been violently tackled to the floor just moments ago.

“What was that even about, anyway?” manages Flora, giggling hysterically. 

A sharp intake of breath follows her question, your body spinning to face the kitchen door. When roving eyes spot nothing except spiderless walls and a slightly scuffed floor, the biggest sigh of relief collapses your chest. “There were…spiders. Lots and lots of spiders.”

“Spiders aren’t that bad.” Taking out a plastic container from the picnic basket placed on the table everyone surrounded, Undyne pops the lid.

“That scream was _amazing_.” Finally giving a laugh, Flora gestures to some open chairs. “Take a seat. Alphys arrived with food.”

“And Sans there was on his way to get you before you rocketed into him,” adds Undyne, grabbing a paper plate. 

Turning to Sans, face still unbelievably red with embarrassment, you once again apologize, hands nervously twisting together.

“it’s fine. no harm done.” Shrugging, he continues. “saves me from having to walk to get you.”

“YOU ARE SUCH A LAZY BONES!” scoffs the other skeleton, grabbing a plate. “COME OVER HERE AND EAT BEFORE THE FOOD GETS COLD!”

Glancing at you and shrugging again, a grin stuck to his face, Sans obeys and accepts a plate handed to him. Peeling off your dirty gloves, you follow, ignoring the snickers from Flora as you look at the food sitting out before you. Sandwiches, macaroni and cheese, pita wraps, subs, and chicken pasta salad sit beautifully, begging to be eaten. You don’t hesitate as you grab a plastic fork and scoop up some of the salad, grabbing a wrap from the pile and sitting heavily on an empty chair, bending down into the cooler for a water bottle.

Taking a swig, you notice something off. “Oh! I haven’t even introduced myself!” Capping the water, you smile at the three strangers. “I’m [Name]. It’s nice to meet you!”

“FRISK HAS TOLD ME ALL ABOUT YOU!” bursts the tall skeleton, a wide smile dancing on his expression.

“Have they?” you ask, taking a small bite of the salad and feeling your taste buds melt. What Undyne had said about Alphys’ cooking earlier had worried you, but the perfectly mixed spices and textures as you chew bring nothing but contentment. 

“YES! ABOUT HOW YOU ADORE ALL ANIMALS AND WISH YOU HAD A CAT! AND HOW YOU DON’T SPECIFICALLY HAVE A FAVORITE FOOD AND YOU’RE STUDYING BUSINESS AND YOUR LONGEST FRIEND IS FLORA AND YOUR FAVORITE SEASON IS SPRING!”

The small child had taken it upon themselves to text you every day since you met, asking all sorts of questions about your likes and dislikes and sharing all about their days at school. It was cute, and it felt almost like you had an adoring younger sibling. Every time your screen lit up with a small bubble with their name as the sender, your day instantly brightened.

Chuckling, you give a thumbs up. “That’s really my life in a nutshell. Good job, uh…”

“PAPYRUS! THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” Standing proudly, he places a hand on his chest and another on his hip. “YOU’VE ALREADY MET MY BROTHER SANS!”

“yo.” Fork trapped between teeth, the smaller skeleton gives a short wave before digging into the basket, drawing out a ketchup bottle.

“Yo. Then you must be Alphys.” Turning to the yellow monster with a smile, you add, “Undyne has told me lots about you!”

“O-oh!” A blush creeps through her scales, eyes flicking away. “All good things, I h-hope.”

“Of course, baby! You’re nothing but perfect!” Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Undyne gives a peck to Alphys’ colored cheek, making her dip turn pink even more.

Their interaction makes you smile as you continue to eat, content to sit back and listen to everyone chat as the food slowly diminishes. Papyrus had taken control of the  
cooking, you learn, with Alphys simply being his assistant in the matter, and you and Flora can’t praise either of them enough. Alphys’ history as a scientist is brought up quickly, her role as the Royal Scientist in the Underground and the fact she now owned her own lab. With one inquiry from you about her studies start her on a tangent that lasts for a good ten minutes, but when she learns of your shared interest in anime, it takes the practiced hand, or should you say mouth, of Undyne to distract her.

It seems Sans had your plan in mind as he simply eats in silence, commenting every now and then and occasionally taking a drink from the ketchup bottle next to him, which you eyed curiously. Once he caught you looking, he made sure to stare right at you every time he tipped the bottle up, a wink and a grin responding to your expressions every time. Soon you decide to promptly ignore him, causing a huffed chuckle to rise from his chest and a determined grunt from yours.

Once everyone has had their fill and all the containers replaced in the basket, the three workers of the not quite café sit quietly, Undyne’s eyes watching Alphys, yours leering at the kitchen door, and Flora’s watching your expression with a smile. Only the guests remain unaware of the internal struggle to drudge up some motivation to continue working, chatting away like the sun wasn’t setting on the horizon. Noticing the long shadows being cast on the floor, you make up your mind and speak up.

“We can continue dusting tomorrow. Or, well, the day after since I have class tomorrow.” It wasn’t because you were more than a bit frightened to go back into the backroom. After all, you could always have one of your underlings to go instead. Yeah. “Thanks so much again, Alphys, Papyrus, for making us food, and Sans you’re in this too when I say I’m grateful for you keeping us company.”

“IT’S NO PROBLEM, HUMAN!” One thing you learned about Papyrus, aside from his boisterous voice, was that he liked to call any human by their species. “WE WOULD LOVE TO COME AGAIN IF YOU’D HAVE US! RIGHT, GUYS?”

“O-of course!” chimes Alphys hesitantly. “I had fun.”

“Before I forget!” Plopping her phone on the table, Undyne crosses her arms. “Numbers. Now.”

Glancing at you with a raised eyebrow, Flora grabs her phone first before tossing it to you. This prompts Papyrus in asking for your numbers as well, and soon everyone has everyone’s number and each pair of feet are standing outside on the sidewalk in a circle.

“Get home safe, alright guys?” speaks Flora, standing next to Undyne and Alphys after offering them a ride home. Papyrus had declined for himself and his brother, saying it was too nice of weather to be stuck in a car with a hood that didn’t go down. Sans didn’t seem to keen on the idea, but simply shrugged with a sigh in the end, voicing no objections. You were with Papyrus on the nice weather, aside from the fact that your house was in the opposite direction of the couple’s and you didn’t want to impose.

With a nod and a wave the group disperses, your eyes traveling up to the darkening sky as you shift your backpack holding the stereo to a more comfortable position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never know how to end chapters, I'm sorry.  
> Anyway! Sans has finally been met along with everyone else except Asgore and Mettaton! Woo! Now I can start working towards the fluff and other things! And yes, long chapter is long. I hope to keep my chapters this length in the future, give or take a few hundred words.


	5. Apportionment

The existence of bleach was a life saver. You were certain the stains on the once and again pristine handkerchief would never have completely come out, though it was partly your fault the red had been allowed to settle as it had from your negligence. Realizing you wouldn’t be able to save your hoodie, you had run the washer again in hopes of at least being able to save the kerchief without drastic measures, and in doing so forgotten all about it sitting in your washing machine until you popped the lid to dump a basketful of dirty clothes and found the lonely cloth at the bottom.

Digging out the bottle of bleach from under your sink and careful to mix it with water in a small container, the kerchief sat for quite a few hours before the bleach did its work, maybe a bit too well. The fabric was definitely whiter than you remember it being before where your blood hadn’t touched, and, with careful fingers, you dump the bleach concoction down the drain and keep the water running from the tap over the whitened cloth until you were positive no bleach remained between the thread.

It did smell strongly of the chemical, and since you didn’t have a bottle of perfume in the apartment, you decide to lay it out to air on your coffee table. Tucking your legs under you on the couch, you send Toriel a quick picture of the cleaned kerchief, humming delightfully as her reply comes shortly after, her small emoticons prompting a smile to your lips. It amazed you a bit, how her big fingers could work expertly over the small phone screen without a single spelling error. Or perhaps she was just lucky, or good at using the voice to text option. Suddenly wanting very much to ask her how she did it, you instead settle to simply stewing over the possibilities as you flip through channels, worried it might seem a bit rude to ask such a question.

Finally pausing on a channel, you don’t even have time to set down the remote before your phone goes off, Undyne’s name invading the screen. Sliding to the answer bubble curiously, her instant screech has you quickly jerk the device away from your ringing ear in fright.

“YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOUR BIRTHDAY WAS TOMORROW!”

Blinking, you hesitantly bring the phone back. Was tomorrow really your birthday? “Uh… It is?”

“That’s what Flora says!” Still yelling but having toned it down, only a few inches are needed to keep your hearing safe. “You don’t know your own birthday?”

“I honestly haven’t been paying close attention to the date,” you admit, tapping your screen and bringing up the calendar app. Undyne was right, your birthday was indeed the next day.

Her strained scoff has you smiling in spite of yourself. “That gives us no time!”

“Time for what?”

“Your party! Duh!” You can just imagine her eye roll. “There’s like no time to get presents and junk!”

“Presents aren’t needed. Neither is a party.”

“I’m going to pretend you never said that. You free tomorrow?”

“I have a class in the morning.”

“Good. That gives us more time. ALPHYS!” There you go again, straightening your arm. “Call Toriel and see if she can help out! I’ll call Papyrus after this!” A muffle, presumably Alphys’ reply, gives your ears a moment of reprieve. “Okay dork, free up your schedule for tomorrow after your class. I’m going to hear no complaints from you!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Later!” 

That was the scariest phone call you’ve ever had, and you make a very important mental note to be very careful answering any of Undyne’s future calls if you hope to keep any form of hearing. Shaking your head with a shrug, you nearly drop your cell in temporary fear when it dings a notification. You were not ready for more of Undyne’s yelling.

 

_**\--From: Flora** _  
_**\--To: [Name]** _  
_Undyne is great, omg._

 

Sighing in amusement, you watch the jumping periods at the bottom of the screen, waiting for her next message.

 

_**\--From: Flora** _  
_**\--To: [Name]** _  
_She’s awesome but now won’t stop asking me questions about gifts._

 

_**\--From: Flora** _  
_**\--To: [Name]** _  
_You haven’t had a legitimate birthday party in a long time!_

 

She was probably more excited than you were, but you couldn’t deny the thought of everyone gathering just to celebrate the day of your birth quickened the beat of your heart in joy. A smile was forming on your lips at the thought, warmth spreading pleasantly through your chest.

 

_**\--From: Flora** _  
_**\--To: [Name]** _  
_Now Papyrus is calling me._

 

Knowing she was now swamped with birthday preparations, you don’t bother to reply to her. Instead you rise to inspect the inside of your fridge, the slight gnaw of hunger at the edges of your stomach. While you’re drawing out ingredients for a simple sandwich, your phone goes off again.

 

_**\--From: Frisk** _  
_**\--To: [Name]** _  
_how old will u be turning?_

 

Frisk’s questions had started, and with a chuckle you tackle every one. In the midst of your sandwich making, the kitchen trash gets replaced and the bag placed by the front door, evidence of your somewhat lazy cleaning habits. Promising to yourself that once your stomach was no longer trying to eat itself you’d take it to the dumpster, you stay leaned against the counter as you talk to Frisk, occasionally answering questions from the others. 

It was odd, getting so much attention for something you deemed a bit trivial. Flora always took time to hand you a small gift and wish a happy birthday, but aside from that, your birthday was just another day. Sure, parties happened as a child, but as you grew up and grew apart from the others, it just didn’t seem so important. Considering you’ve known Undyne less than a month, everyone else even less so, you didn’t feel like they should be wasting their time and money on you. You weren’t hurting for anything in the ‘want’ department, your father sending you more than enough money to support yourself monthly, even with you constantly telling him it wasn’t necessary.

But it’s not like you weren’t excited or touched by their actions either. For having known you for such little time, they were scrambling to get things ready on such short notice. Undyne sounded excited, and a smile wouldn’t disappear as you imagined everyone together for your sake, the feeling of belonging worming its way into your heart.

It was frightening.

They didn’t know your father was a successful businessman, aside from Undyne. She’d been around you and Flora enough to pick up on some conversations and you’d admitted to her that first day that your dad was successful, but regardless of how much she knew, she hadn’t treated you any different, and you could only hope it’d last, and the others were the same. Too many times had you allowed ‘friends’ take advantage of your kindness, too many times have you been hurt. All of it would be known eventually, long expected questions finally asked, and you’d have no option but to speak the truth and hope for the best.

You were already so attached to Undyne, Frisk, and Toriel, and you can easily imagine getting attached to everyone else. The thought of losing them bothered you more than it should.

Shaking your head of all negativity, you stuff your phone into your pocket and cross to the front door, slipping shoes on as you grasp the trash bag and shoulder the door open. Too much thinking was never a good thing. Distraction is what you needed, and as you cross the parking lot to the dumpster, your eyes catch sight of the moving truck sitting in front of the building across from yours, a small group of humans clustered around. It’s only when you get closer that your eyes narrow in alarm.

“Don’t you realize you’re not welcome here?” speaks one of the humans, a woman with brown hair, arms crossed and hip popped. She oozes self confidence, spurred by the sneers and agreements of the others around her. 

“Yeah, go back underground where you belong!” This time it’s a man, around your age, and as you finally reach the dumpster you catch a glimpse of who they’ve crowded around.

A monster family, a small yellow dinosaur looking child with a striped shirt hiding behind what you presume to be their mother’s teal legs, wings pressed taught against her back as the child’s father stands in front of them, the same yellow as his child. You can see the fear in their eyes, restrained anger in the male’s, as he speaks.

“We’re allowed to live here, same as you.”

“But the problem is that you don’t _belong_ ,” sneers the woman again. “You’re not wanted here. Do you see any other monsters living here?” She spreads her arms wide, gesturing to the rest of the complex. “Didn’t think so.”

Anger flares in your chest as you throw the bag rather forcefully into the dumpster. Why were people always so condescending and against anything different than them? Every molecule in your body screams to step in, to defend them against these close minded idiots.

“It’s quite handy that your stuff is still in the truck. All you have to do is just drive away.” Another of the group speaks. “What are you waiting for?”

“They’re waiting for you guys,” you find yourself speaking, anger leveling your voice. “Can’t you see you’re bothering them?”

“Yeah? And who are you?” It’s the woman again, spinning on her heels to face you, turning up her nose in disgust.

“Just a neighbor,” you respond. “Being helpful in reminding you all that any harassment is subject to being reported to the office, where you will be evaluated and, if deemed necessary by the landlords, evicted from the grounds. I’m sure you wouldn’t want that, now would you? I know it’s in fine print, so I don’t blame you for missing that part in the contract.”

The monsters look shocked to hear you speaking in their defense, but you’re too busy feeling the pounding of your heart and trying not to shake to notice, instead staring down the –five?— humans that look rather pissed.

“So you’re a monster lover?” spits one that hasn’t spoken yet, eyeing you up and down with disgust. 

“Call me what you want.” Shrugging nonchalantly, you step around the group to stand next to the male monster. “I’m just reminding you, out of my concern for you—” you were sure your voice couldn’t drip with any more sarcasm “—what the policy here is. I would hate to see my lovely neighbors forced to leave.”

This was obviously too much for one, who takes a step towards you, bristling. “Look here, you—”

The woman grasps his arm. “Don’t bother, Tim. She’ll get what she deserves.” You had no clue humans could snarl like an animal until just now. “I have a child to pick up from school. I’m leaving.” 

Just like any group of bullies, when the leader disappears, the others follow. With her departure, the others throw out an excuse to leave as well, until the only ones standing in the parking lot are you and the family. Releasing a breath you weren’t aware was growing stale in your lungs, a nervous laugh escapes your chest.

“Thank you,” comes a soft voice, directing your gaze to the teal mother bending down to check her child.

“It’s no problem,” you say, drawing your fingers through your hair. “I can’t stand bullying of any sort.”

“You live here?” This time it’s the father, a deep alto thrumming the air. 

You nod, pointing to your door. “Over that way.”

Content that her child was fine, the woman turns to you, grasping your hands in her own clawed ones gently. “We’ll thank you somehow.”

“Really. It’s not necessarily.” Shaking your head quickly, you note her expression of determination.

“I insist.” Dipping her head, she continues. “I’m Rivera. This is my husband, Braylin, and my son, Coen.”

“You were so cool, yo!” The excited voice of Coen nearly interrupts his mother, his eyes in awe as they look at you. “You weren’t scared at all!”

Laughing, you tilt your head. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Dude, the way you just stood up to them and—”

“Yes, yes. Coen, start grabbing some of your boxes, okay?” His father does interrupt, a twinkle in his eye as he pats his son on the back. You weren’t going to question how the small monster, who was armless you realize with slight alarm, was going to pick up anything as he huffs and nods in defeat, trotting into the truck with his father on his heels.

“My son loves to talk,” comments Rivera, releasing your hands.

“It’s no problem at all, Rivera. I’m sure I talked a lot as a kid too.” Smiling back, you nod toward the truck. “Do you need any help?”

“I couldn’t bother you any further, uhm…”

“Oh! [Name].”

“Ms. [Name], you’ve done so much for us already.”

Waving your hands quickly, you aim to correct. “There’s no need for formalities! And it’s no problem, really!”

Complying, she drops the formalities, a slight frown gracing her lips as she speaks your name without it. “Truly, it’s okay. We’re getting friends to help us. They should be here soon.”

“Dude, she was just like Undyne!” The name grabs your attention and you watch Coen trot out of the truck, a box floating in front of him as he steps down the ramp. “So cool!”

“You know Undyne?” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, and the expression the monster kid gives you is one of pure joy as he quite literally jumps up and down.

“You know her?!”

“Yeah! I work with her!”

“Oh man, mom, dad, did you hear that?!” The box remains, thankfully, in place as he bounces around excitedly. “Undyne lives near here! You’ll let me see her, right?! Right?!”

“Uh, sure, I guess?” A shrug accompanies your words.

“Awesome!”

“Coen.” Braylin warns, having to flash only one look to his son before he grumbles and rushes to his new home, box steady the whole way.

You’d lie if you said you weren’t looking at that box for more than half of that interaction. When Braylin turns to you, you make sure to pointedly look at his eyes. “As my wife said, we have friends coming to help us. They should be here any minute now.”

Shifting your weight, you once again point toward your door. “Well, if you find you ever need help, just pay me a visit then, alright?”

“Thank you.” Nodding and shifting the boxes in his arms in a more comfortable position, he follows his son, nearly tripping over the child as they bolt out the door, Coen’s small feet catching his father’s big one and tumbling to the ground face first. The way he pops back up and continues running baffles you.

“We’ll see you soon,” promises Rivera, pressing a hand to her chest and dipping into a slight bow. “Your kindness will be repaid.”

“There’s no need, really!” Flustered, you lock your fingers together behind your back. “If you truly feel you have to repay me, then pay that kindness forward, to someone who may need your help, in the future.”

You’re certain you see tears at the corners of her eyes as she simply nods. “Bless you, child.”

This time it’s your turn to dip forward, mimicking her own before you finally turn to leave, a smile painted across your face the whole walk back to your apartment. As you look curiously back to make sure the family was hassle free, you close your door and fish out the phone in your pocket.

 

_**\--From: [Name]** _  
_**\--To: Undyne** _  
_Do you know a kid named Coen? I think that’s how you spell it. Koen?_

 

It doesn’t take long for her response.

 

_**\--From: Undyne** _  
_**\--To: [Name]** _  
_Sounds familiar? Describe him._

 

_**\--From: [Name]** _  
_**\--To: Undyne** _  
_Small little yellow kid, with a tail and a striped shirt. Parents are named Braylin and Rivera._

 

_**\--From: Undyne** _  
_**\--To: [Name]** _  
_LOL DO I KNOW HIM that squirt was running around getting into trouble everywhere in waterfall. Why? How do you know him?_

 

_**\--From: [Name]** _  
_**\--To: Undyne** _  
_Him and his family just moved into the complex._

 

_**\--From: Undyne** _  
_**\--To: [Name]** _  
_LAWL IM SO SORRY he’s a clumsy and loud dork. Lovable but only bearable in small doses._

_**\--From: Undyne** _  
_**\--To: [Name]** _  
_Very small doses. Now shut up im trying to plan your shit._

 

Lovable as always, Undyne was. Raising an eyebrow, you wonder just how you’ll get Coen to meet Undyne. Maybe invite her over and let the small kid know? The way your fishy friend reacted, you were more than a bit curious to see how they interacted, and the more you think about it, the more a smile rises. It’d definitely be interesting to see and you make another mental note that day to make it happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formatting on this site is aggrevating, ugh. Anyway, monster kid is adorable. I know they're gender neutral in the game, but considering they speak more like how I imagine a little boy would speak compared to a girl and that he looks like a scruffy boy to me, I made him a male.


	6. Acerbity

The man that had looked around your age who was harassing Rivera and her family went to your school. You hadn’t noticed him coincidentally passing you by in the hallway, no, nor did you feel his eyes trained on you during the class you two happened to share. Even as you hung back to check your phone and turn in some homework, his presence remained masked. Thinking back, you should have noticed the looks, paid attention to the small shiver that traced up your spine as you made your way through the building toward the exit, heard the muffled snickering as you pushed the door open. But time cannot be rewound, and the only way to deal with the present is to take a deep breath and not let anyone or anything get to you.

Even when you’re standing in the middle of a half circle of people, some chuckling with amusement, others staring with idle curiosity or pity as they take in your soaked, hunched form, chilled shivers gripping your limbs as the ice cold water drips from your being. Ecstatic laughter rings from a window above, where the water came from, and the smug look of the man you recognize from the day before standing in front of you, arms crossed and looking very pleased with himself.

“That woman wasn’t wrong when she said you’d get what you deserve,” he laughs out. When you don’t move to reply, he bends down to level with your downturned face. “What’s wrong? You were full of confidence and sarcasm yesterday.”

Your jaw sets, fingers curl into a fist, but you bite back any protest, desperately trying to quell the rising anger and fear burning in your chest. Bullies live for reactions, so if you don’t respond, then maybe you can walk away without much confrontation. Even with every cell in your body screaming fight or flight, you just suck in a breath and keep staring at the darkened cement at your feet, building the courage needed to take that first step.

“All that self righteousness, gone. I like that.” Smirking, fingers prop your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his. 

You grit your teeth but say nothing, meeting his stare head on, careful to not betray any of the dread you certainly felt, crawling under your ribcage and threatening to stall your heart. It already held your legs in paralysis, the last thing you needed was for it to take over.

“You defend them, but where are they when you’re in trouble?” With a sneer and a wink, he turns to the audience. “I hope at least one of you is recording this!” A few whoops come from the crowd, one from the window.

You swallow thickly. It was one thing to stick up for someone else, another when it came to yourself. Any insult, any prank, any misfortune and you could handle it, given enough time. You were strong, you had to be. Perhaps it was from stubbornness, or a fear of being held back, or retaliation for the bad things that happened in life. Whatever the reason, you endured, and you’d be damned if this was any different.  
Positioning your backpack more comfortably, you finally gain control over your muscles again, moving your feet to step around the man. Your eyes catch his when his hand grips your arm tightly.

“Where are you going, kitten?” comes his hiss, one you narrow your eyes at.

Without a word, you simply jerk your arm free and quickly walk off, thankful when the crowd seamlessly parts to let you through and even more thankful when he doesn’t follow. A call echoes behind you, one you deftly ignore, refusing to look back until you reach the nearest parking lot, where you lean against a street light to deflate. Sighing loudly and closing your eyes, willing your heart to steady, you nearly jump out of your skin when a hand brushes against your own. 

Wide eyes almost hidden by brown hair, Frisk jumps when you do. Pressing a hand to your chest, you can’t help but to laugh in relief. “Frisk! What are you doing here?” Bending down to wrap them in a hug, you instantly think better and instead ruffle their hair. You were still soaked. 

“came to get you.” Sans, hands stuffed in blue pockets and hood drawn up, speaks. “saw quite an interesting sight.”

You wince. “You two saw that?”

“was kind of hard not to. you alright?”

“Yeah.” Shaken. “Just kinda wet.” Dropping your damp backpack onto the floor, you move to remove your hoodie, shivering as the cold cloth sticks to your skin in protest. 

“what was that about?” His eyes watch you carefully. 

The moment your free of the wet piece of clothing, Frisk wraps their arms around you in a hug. Patting their head with a smile, you reply, “It’s not that important.” Sweeping the kid up and squeezing tightly, you change the subject. “So why’d you want to get me?”

Small hands move frantically, face filled with a smile as they roll on their heels. Sans silently obliges to the role of translator. “it’s your birthday, kid.” With a grin, he adds, “happy birthday, from the both of us. seems to be going _swimmingly_ so far.”

Rolling your eyes and laughing, you ball up the hoodie. “Thank you, Sans, Frisk.” Unzipping the front pocket of your bag, you stuff the clothing in, not bothering to fight the zipper completely back in place.

Giving you another hug, Frisk takes your hand and tugs.

“tori offered her house for the party.” Watching as you replace the familiar weight of homework on your back, Frisk’s hand still in yours, he raises an eyebrow. Eyebone? Brow ridge? You weren’t sure, nor were you certain how he could even make facial expressions in general, like that grin he always seemed to wear. “we were gonna take you straight there, but…” Looking you up and down, the rest speaks for itself.

“Yeah, I would love a change of clothes right now.” While your hoodie, backpack, and head had taken the majority of the water, your shoes and jeans still had their own uncomfortable wet patches, your shirt sticking in odd places where the hoodie hadn’t been covering. Shivering not only from the chilly water but the breeze as well, you wanted nothing more than to get warm.

A frown turns Frisk’s lips down as they look at you, noticing your shivers, furrowed brows showing their distress in being unable to help. A sigh comes from Sans as he shrugs off his hoodie, exposing his plain white t-shirt underneath. You watch as the sun glints off his arms as he hefts the backpack from your shoulder and throws it over his own, tossing you the hoodie in the process, a toss you nearly miss in your distraction. Fumbling slightly, you grip the clothing and give a quizzical look.

“you look cold,” is all he says with a shrug, but Frisk’s smile and nod doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“I can carry my bag still.” Slipping your arms through the sleeves, you’re surprised to find them pleasantly warm.

“and get my hoodie wet?” Considering the bag was still slowly dripping water, he had a point.

“What about your shirt?”

“hoodie is more important.”

Humming with suspicion, you decide to accept the lazy excuse, drawing the clothing closer to your form as a shiver shakes your limbs. “Well then, thank you, Sans.”

A smile is his reply. “so, _water_ we waiting for? let’s get going.”

Frisk snickers, replacing their hand in yours as you bark out a laugh. “I hate how I love puns.”

His grin grows immeasurably at that comment. “get comfortable. i have a constant _flow_ of them.”

And he proves it as the three of you make your way to your apartment, a smile never seeming to leave your lips as Frisk, getting fed up with all the puns, start pulling unamused faces that make you giggle even more. It was a bit amazing how the skeleton never seemed to run out of or repeat a pun, and by the time you’re slipping the key into your door’s lock, you think he ought to be given a medal. 

Stepping into the familiar apartment with a sigh, Frisk finally lets go of your hand as you slip off your still soaked shoes and peel off your damp socks, wiggling pruned toes with distaste. “Make yourselves comfortable,” you offer in amusement, smiling at the small child who had already sprawled themselves out onto the couch. “I won’t take long.”

“take your time,” you hear Sans reply, crossing over to poke Frisk in the side while setting your bag down, receiving a snorted laugh in response.

Closing your bedroom door and fishing out your phone and wallet from your pockets, you toss them on the bed as you start to undress, eager to get out of the wet clothing. Pointedly trying not to think of why anyone would feel the need to maliciously dump water on someone’s head and instead focus on the sounds drifting from the living room, you quickly pull another pair of jeans and a t-shirt over yourself, unconsciously running your arms through the sleeves of Sans’ hoodie before you catch yourself. Draping the clothing over your arm, you try to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks as you distractedly retrieve a dry pair of socks. 

Lowering yourself onto the bed and shifting the hoodie so it rested over your shoulder, a knock at the door echoes through the quiet room. With a “Come in,” a familiar skeleton turns the doorknob and steps in. With your welcoming smile, he tilts his head. “hey.”

“Hey.” Slipping a sock on, you move to the other foot. “Thanks again for letting me borrow your hoodie.”

“s'no problem.” He stands awkwardly by the cracked door, hands hanging uncertainly at his sides. “so, uh. i know you don’t want to talk about it, but, uh—”

“I know.” You cut him off, lowering your socked feet to the carpet as you rise. “I was going to ask you and Frisk to not mention anything to the others, but I owe you guys an explanation, at the very least.” Grasping the hoodie, you hold it out. “I’m not sure how much Frisk is aware of…things, so I’ll let you determine what to tell them.” He nods quietly, quickly replacing the hoodie back where it belongs. Drawing fingers through your drying hair, you continue. “A monster family moved in across from me yesterday. People were harassing them and I stuck up for them. That guy today was part of that group giving the family trouble.”

Sans frowns, stuffing his hands rather forcefully into his pockets. “i see. why didn’t you say anything?”

His eyes remain trained on you curiously as you shrug, dropping your gaze down and away. “And say what, exactly? He knows what he did.” Rubbing an arm subconsciously, fighting down the goose bumps threatening to form, you simply shrug once more. “It doesn’t matter.”

“everyone else would say differently.” Turning and pushing the door open, the skeleton looks back at you. “thanks for sticking up for them.”

A smile graces you lips as you look up. “No need for thanks. I did what anyone should do. I don’t regret what I did. Besides,” a grin you don’t quite feel makes its way to your face, “I got a free shower. That’s one less thing I have to worry about today.”

A bonebrow rises once more before he steps through the doorway, his inquisitive look melting into a lazy grin. “i’m gonna make sure the kid isn’t eating all your food.”

“They can eat as much as they want,” you laugh, following him out into the hallway. “Growing kids are expected to be bottomless pits.”

“you haven’t seen how much they can shovel down. they’d eat themselves into a coma if they could.”

Chuckling at his comment, you turn the corner to spot Frisk fisting chips into their mouth, reminiscent of a squirrel stuffing acorns in their cheeks. Holding back a flow of giggles, not missing the knowing glance Sans sends your way, you cross the room and ruffle their hair. “Enjoying the chips?”

Their head bobs quickly, wiping their hands on their pants as they jump up. Swallowing their mouthful of snacks, their inquisitive look directed your way is all they need to communicate.

“Yup, we can leave now.”

With a grin, they roll up the chip bag and bounce over to return it to the kitchen. You’re grabbing a dry hoodie from the closet when they return, stuffing their feet in their shoes rather clumsily and bouncing on the balls of their feet while you slip your own shoes on. Grabbing Sans’ hand then reaching for yours, they blink curiously as you accept their hand and bend down to their eye level.

“Frisk. I need you to do me a favor, okay?” With their nod, you continue. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention what you saw earlier to everyone else.” Their expression shifts, and you add, “I don’t want to needlessly worry them.” Or, in Flora and Undyne’s case, talk them out of murder. 

Shaking their hands free, Frisk signs, prompting Sans to sigh. “not everyone is open to us, kiddo. you know that.” He pauses as fingers move again. “she helped some monsters and some people didn’t appreciate it.” More hand movement. “i know, kiddo.” Patting him on the head, Sans gestures to you. “we’ll just have to make sure the rest of her birthday is awesome, now won’t we?”

That seems to perk Frisk up immensely, for suddenly you’re being shoved outside, small hands grabbing both of yours and pulling you down the sidewalk. “Frisk! I have to lock the door!” you laugh, watching their face scrunch in impatience as you shake yourself free. Turning only to stop abruptly, you blink several times as you process the keys filling your vision, courtesy of Sans who jingles them with a grin.

“i got ya.” Twirling the key ring around his index finger, he plops the keys onto your palm when you hold it out, boney digits brushing against your skin. You nearly shiver in surprise at their warmth. “tori’s house isn’t far from here.” 

There’s that familiar tug coming from your hoodie, and this time you allow Frisk to sweep you along in their excitement, allowing your smile to grow as you think of what might be waiting ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FIGURED OUT HOW TO FINALLY REPLY TO COMMENTS  
> I know there's an option they give you for the e-mails you receive, but Archive doesn't really like me much, and the linking never really worked. But I could just go through here, and didn't realize it till this morning, so I WASN'T IGNORING YOU GUYS I SWEAR. I read every single comment two or three times, no joke.


	7. Effulgence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 100 kudos and 1,000 hits?! You guys! What is this? You all are so amazing!!

The interior of the house captives you instantly as you follow Frisk inside, roaming eyes taking in the high ceiling and pictures on the walls. Directly in front of you lies the living room, complete with a simple yet extravagant two piece couch and an entertainment center holding up a decent sized television, coffee table sitting comfortably in between. To the right are stairs leading up, presumably to the bedrooms, the mahogany railings free of any dust. A pleasant smell of baking rests contentedly in the air, your mouth watering in response as you inhale deeply, nearly missing the grin sent your way from Sans as you do so. The quiet completed the place, making it seem as if you had stepped into a photograph instead of through a door.

Wait, quiet?

Furrowing your brows, you slip off your shoes hesitantly, giving the place another look. Wasn’t Flora and Toriel and everyone else suppose to be here? Glancing to Sans then at Frisk, who seems oddly complacent for their excitement just moments ago, you feel the unease creep into the ridges of your spine, sending tingles through your nerves and bumping up the speed of your heart. 

“Uh, Frisk, Sans…?” You try your best to keep the waver out of your voice.

“huh. everyone was suppose to be here.” Seeming no worse for wear, Sans kicks off his shoes and strolls in, Frisk at his heels. “wonder what tori made.”

Futilely trying to rub the goose bumps from your arms, you follow the two quietly, uneasily watching them turn the corner and disappear. As your footsteps follow theirs around the bend, you nearly jump through the roof, a screech you didn’t know was humanly possible passing your lips as your heart stutters in pure shock.

Bodies from all around spring into view, poppers being set off left and right as you’re showered in colorful confetti, a unified chorus of “SURPRISE!” amazingly reaching your ears despite your vocal chords trying to kill themselves in the process. Sans instantly doubles over in hysterical laughter while everyone surges forward, Flora snaking an arm over your shoulders and Undyne throwing a punch to your arm. The only one not highly amused by your near heart attack is Alphys who stares at you in her own shock, evidently taken aback by your sudden banshee screech.

“What kind of a scream was _that?_ ” barks out Undyne, patting your back rather forcefully in her fits of laughter.

“I’VE NEVER HEARD SOMEONE SO HAPPILY SURPRISED!” comes Papyrus, fiddling with the empty popper in his hand. “THOUGH I WILL ADMIT IT WAS KIND OF FRIGHTENING. NOT FOR I, OF COURSE!” He glances over at Alphys, who quickly waves her arms with a blush.

“I-I j-just w-wasn’t expecting it, i-i-is all!” 

“Nah babe, it _was_ pretty scary. Kinda hurt my ears a bit.” Bending to drape an arm over her girlfriend’s shoulders, Undyne gives a peck to her cheek before grinning at you pointedly. 

“Oh my.” Toriel speaks up, a hand hiding her smile. “This was a bit more _treble_ than we thought.”

Sans ultimately loses it, leaning against the wall for dear life as he desperately gasps for breath between his hiccupping laughter, blue tinted tears glinting at the corner of his eye sockets. He’s not the only one, however, as Flora shakes next to you and Undyne nearly doubles over to mirror Sans. You’re not quite sure how to react to any of this except to match the red hue of a tomato, and you look slowly to each individual, all either laughing or giggling or smiling wide, before resting on Toriel, who is trying her very best not to join Sans’ dilemma. Taking a deep breath, all you can do is say:

“I can’t even be mad at that.”

And with those words, you burst into laughter yourself, noticing Frisk’s double thumbs up and promptly giving one back. That was truly genius of Toriel, and a blossoming respect for her art of comedic delivery buries itself into your chest. Making sure to give the monster mother a thumbs up too, you feel Flora’s weight lift from your shoulders as she steps back with a wide grin on her face. Papyrus is the only one to look somewhat miffed, his raised eye sockets betraying his hidden smile, and you’re pleased to see that Toriel finally indulges to the giggles, her shoulders shaking daintily. 

“tori…” Finally gaining back some self control, Sans wipes at his eyes, swallowing down threatening fits of laughter. “that was… oh god that was amazing…”

“Well,” she replies, patting down her skirt with a smile, “I have my moments.”

“Where have you guys been all my life?” laughs Flora, tossing her empty popper at you and winking as you catch it. “I’m not the only one who appreciates how easy it is to tease [Name] now.” Turning towards the kitchen, where you realize now where most of your friends had jumped out from, Flora gestures to the beautiful round cake laid out on the kitchen counter. Covered with white frosting, colored roses decorate the sides, and as you make your way to it, you see your name with a ‘Happy Birthday’ written in beautiful calligraphy in the middle. Never before have you seen a more gorgeous cake. “Toriel made this for you.”

You turn to Frisk’s mom with your eyes wide, and she waves a hand as if to dismiss your appreciative look. “It’s nothing too special.”

“This is absolutely beautiful, Toriel,” you breath, nearly moved beyond words. It’d been years since you celebrated your birthday, a precious few since you stopped receiving a cake. A flood of warm emotions grip your heart, and you find it difficult to hold back your tears, rapid blinking the only sign of your silent struggle.

Frisk waves their arms, an indignant thumb thrust toward their chest as Toriel chuckles. “Frisk helped too, of course.”

“You two did a wonderful job,” you beam, watching as Frisk sets their hands on their hips proudly. “I kind of don’t want to cut into it.”

“Take a picture?” offers Flora. “I’ve already taken a few myself.”

“Wonderful idea.” Drawing your phone out, you do just that, careful to get a good shot of the writing and the roses. You don’t even notice Flora coming up next to you until she bumps her hip with yours, a knife grasped carefully in her fingers.

“With birthday tradition, the birthday girl must cut her own piece and take the first bite.” Carefully handing you the knife, she grabs a small plate while you cut into the beautiful cake sadly, not wanting to ruin the beauty Toriel and Frisk had spent time crafting but knowing that, with every dessert, it was meant to be eaten. 

The red velvet middle, a contrast to the white icing, looks very inviting as you place the small piece on your plate. Accepting the fork handed to you, a small squeak of delight makes it way past your throat as your taste buds take in the sweetness of the cake, a sharp, delicious flavor that spreads through your mouth as you chew and leaves you wanting more as you swallow.

“Cakes can taste like this?” you ask, bewildered, watching as everyone surges forward to get their own slice of the dessert.

“I put my own little ingredient in it,” smiles Toriel, the edges of her mouth rising as everyone partakes in their own slice and praise her, either with loud enthusiasm or quiet thumbs up.

“What is it?” Spearing her slice eagerly, Flora watches as Frisk excitedly signs then look up at their mother expectantly.

Toriel chuckles. “Just a bit of magic.”

You blink at the cake. “Magic can make food taste better?”

“Among other things,” speaks up Undyne.

Flora waves her fork in the fish monster’s direction. “Your magic is terrifying.”

“ _She_ is terrifying,” you correct, chuckling at Undyne’s scowl.

“I lost my tempter once!”

Flora is quick to retort. “And nearly brought down the building with you. Because of some dust.” 

“That dust almost killed me!”

Their banter continues as you silently finish your slice and cut another, helping Frisk with their second helping shortly after and watching as they bound over to Flora’s side and, by the way Undyne’s face twists even more, it’s evident the child is taking the human red head’s side. Even Alphys seems to be enjoying her girlfriend’s fluster, for she makes no move to either help or go against her, instead content to eating her cake silently with a smile.

Slipping your empty plate into the trash and placing the dirty fork in the sink, you step quietly out of the kitchen and back into the living room, careful to not crinkle the confetti littering the carpet. Peering at one of the picture collages hanging on the wall, a smile graces your lips as you see Frisk in every one, the others making appearances. There’s one with Frisk and Papyrus hidden behind separate snow forts, snowballs evident in their hands. Another is a simple picture of Sans sitting next to the kid, pointing to something on the paper sitting between them, a pencil gripped in Frisk’s hand. And another, with Papyrus and Undyne in an unfamiliar kitchen, Frisk handing the skeleton a tomato while Undyne is grabbing more ingredients from the fridge.

“Cameras are an amazing invention.” Toriel’s gentle voice floats from behind, her eyes glittering as she looks at the pictures. Pointing to the last one, she adds on to the memory. “Alphys actually took this picture and sent it to me, saying that for once she wasn’t scared to see Undyne trying to cook.”

Eyebrows shoot up at that comment. “Undyne can’t cook?”

“I burnt my house down once.” The monster in questions speaks so matter of factly that you can’t catch the sudden snort of laughter escaping from your chest. Her yellow eye shoots you a look, a grin painting her face. “It was kind of awesome.”

“WE HAD A LOT OF SLEEPOVERS AFTER THAT!” chimes in Papyrus happily. “AND I MADE SURE SHE DIDN’T BURN DOWN OUR HOUSE TOO!”

“Hey. I learned my lesson, and for your information I’m quite a decent cook now.” Plopping down onto the couch, Undyne pats the space next to her.

“It’s true!” Lowering herself on the spot patted, Alphys gives a small smile. “She m-makes edible thing now.”

“Damn right I do!” You weren’t sure if that was a compliment or not, but Undyne takes it as such and throws her arm over Alphys’ shoulders happily. 

“So [Name],” grabbing your attention, Flora hands you a DVD case. “We were thinking about what to do for your birthday, and we were coming up with blanks until I learned that not all of the monsters here have watched Disney movies.” Glancing down at the case, you take in the cover of Tangled. “I figured you wouldn’t mind having a Disney movie marathon.”

Your mind reeling, you give good hard looks at all the monsters present. “You guys have never seen a Disney movie?”

“I HAVE! FRISK HAS SHOWN ME A FEW BEFORE!” With Papyrus’ words, Frisk nods quickly. “AND I OF COURSE HAD TO SHOW SANS!”

“true. sat me down the next day,” agrees his brother, seeming to sink into the couch cushion he lowers himself on. Normally you would have blinked in confusion at the sight, but you were currently still trying to process the current situation.

You turn to Undyne and Alphys, who both shake their heads, and Toriel, who is in the same boat as the skeleton brothers. Your mouth gapes at Flora, your look incredulous, and she pats you on the back in shared sympathy.

“I know. While I give Frisk credit for showing a few, there are some here who don’t know the beauty they’re missing. Now put that in the player while I grab your presents.”

You watch for a moment as she trudges up the stairs before turning to the TV, easily finding the DVD player. Toriel helps by grabbing the remote and switching the channel to the correct one as you place the disk on the tray and push it in, the screen lighting up with trailers as you find a comfortable spot between Sans and Alphys. Moments later Flora returns with an armful of wrapped gifts that she places on your lap.

“Open in any order. We all sorta pooled our money together to get you these, so they’re all from us.” Lowering herself on the closest available spot, she tucks her legs in as you grab the top gift gently and carefully unwrap it.

The moment your eyes take in the studio drawing pencils you know what the rest of the gifts are, a mix of unease and excitement swirling in your chest as you lay down the pencil case, erasers, pencil sharpeners, and eventually the sketchbook out in front of you. You stare at them, a weight on your chest causing your breath to come just a tad more shallow as you take it all in, tears once more tickling the edges of your vision. 

A quick glance up at Flora shows that she knows, her earnest smile accompanying her next words. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you draw, and thought, well… maybe you’d want to give it a shot again.” Her sentence holds a weight only you understand, and as you flip open the sketchbook to reveal a white, mark free page, it takes all your self control to hold back the tears.

“I had no clue you could draw.” Unaware of the meaning behind the gifts, Undyne gives a wide smile. “That’s so cool! You’ll have to show me some of your work!”

Rubbing the back of your neck uncertainly, you reply back hesitantly, “I don’t think I’m that good…” Especially since you hadn’t drawn a single line in almost two years.

Frisks’ hands move, and it’s Papyrus that speaks for them. “FRISK FINALLY HAS A BUDDY TO DRAW WITH!”

“You draw?” you ask, a quick nod coming from the child as a response.

“I-I’ve been teaching them.” Looking somewhat embarrassed, Alphys twiddles her thumbs and looks down.

“She’s been teaching me too.” Giving a peck to the top of her head, Undyne grins. “She’s just as good as people who draw actual manga!”

“You’ll have to show us sometime!” speaks Flora, smiling as Alphys lights up with a blush.

“O-oh, u-um… I-I don’t think I-I’m that g-good, but…” Her lips rise ever so slowly. “Sure. One day. S-So, are we going to w-watch this movie now?”

With a laugh, Flora gestures to Toriel with a flourish. “Press play and let’s get this marathon started!”

Toriel does just that and everyone settles in. The lack of subtitles confuses you for just a moment before realization dawns that Frisk can indeed hear, they just can’t speak. This fact, however, takes a backseat rather quickly as you watch the monsters lean forward as the movie progresses, Alphys, Undyne, and Papyrus getting rather expressive as the drama picks up. Flora sings to each song quietly under her breath, Sans’ grin widens ever so slightly as Papyrus reacts to something on screen, and Toriel simply looks around occasionally with happiness dancing in her eyes. You’re fairly certain tears glisten at the corners of Papyrus’ eye sockets as Rapunzel takes the dying Flynn in her arms near the end, Alphys and Undyne squeezing each other’s hands rather forcefully as they look on with wide eyes. Frisk, having seen the movie already, joins you in watching everyone’s reactions, sneaking smiles your way frequently. When the credits start rolling, chatter instantly picks up as you replace the disc with another, this time The Princess and the Frog. When you settle back down in your seat it happens all over again.

Toriel, during the third or fourth movie, excuses herself to prepare dinner, but aside from that there’s no change for the rest of the day, evening turning into night as Sans slips into a light slumber and Frisk rubs their eyes with a frown, but nobody moves except for Toriel, who collects the empty dishes and returns with blankets from a nearby closet to drape across the occupants of the couch. 

You and Toriel remain awake to reach the credits of Aladdin, and you offer no refusal as she turns off the television, snuffing the living room full of sleeping inhabitants in complete darkness, the only light from the moon filtering through the windows. As you settle more comfortably on the couch, you try pointedly to ignore Sans’ shift, his head falling lightly to your shoulder. Quietly wishing Toriel a good night as she steps carefully up the stairs, you glance once more around the room with a smile.

The day had started rather rough, but with all the friends currently sleeping around you, you realize that today had been the best in a long time, and you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter seems kinda...choppy? I was at a bit of a loss for a while as to what to write, since I haven't had or been included in a huge get together for any sort of birthday in a looong time. Hopefully this is satisfactory ;w; Also since I haven't been getting a good night's rest the past few days, so if my writing seems to lack, that's why. Can't tell you how many times I reread and edited this chapter.
> 
> And don't worry, the reader's reaction to the art supplies will be explained soon!
> 
> ALSO! I was asked what my update schedule is, and I answered kinda vaguely, so I want to give more clarity on the question. I don't necessarily have one, but I try to update at least once a week. To me, a week begins on Sundays, so I try to get a chapter out before the next Sunday. And when that next Sunday hits, my next week starts. So if I upload, say, on a Thursday, my goal is to get another chapter out not by the upcoming Sunday, but the one after it. Hopefully that makes sense.


	8. Reflection

The lack of heat woke him; a slow pull back to consciousness. Shifting and blinking his eye sockets open, a quick glance confirms he’s still in the here and now, silver light from the moon above illuminating slumbering bodies all wrapped under blankets in a familiar living room. Sitting up from his hunched position on the couch arm, a look to his side reveals the empty spot on the cushion and the cause of his sudden chill. Drawing the covers closer to his form, the faint sound of lead trailing across paper grabs his attention, head swiveling to the farthest corner of the room where your figure sits, legs drawn up with an eraser balancing on one knee.

Usually he would have shrugged, repositioned, and quickly fallen back asleep. Even after having been free of the suffocating Underground and repeated days for a year, nightmares lingered at the corner of his dreams, threatening to drag him into memories he wished he could forget, throwing his soul again and again against the concrete wall of hopelessness he was way too familiar with. It would leave him limping for days after, a tired weight dripping from his bones as sleep either eluded or came in doses. He learned to treasure what sleep he could get, and yet, there was something about the emptiness beside him and your quiet form sitting almost too perfectly against the corner of the room that snagged his attention, a small fire of curiosity licking behind his ribs and ultimately spurring him into motion.

Reluctantly slipping out from the warm blanket, he quietly pads across the living room to the kitchen, eyes trained on your form for any movement aside from the occasional grab for the eraser. Once you’re out of sight, he roots around in the fridge until settling on fruit punch, filling two glasses partway with the drink before shuffling back into the makeshift bedroom of six. Debating how he should get your attention, relief grips the edges of a smile as you slowly look up to his approaching form, confusion twisting your face as you blink once, twice, three times before recognition dawns and a sharp intake of breath reaches his nonexistent ears.

“Did I, um…” Your hues follow his movements, a glass handed your way silencing your question as you set down the pencil to accept it uncertainly.

Sans lowers himself next to you, a small shake of his head indicating his knowledge of your dropped off sentence. “didn’t wake me, no worries.”

“Oh. Well, um… Thanks.” Indicating the drink in your hand, you take a polite sip. “Fruit punch?”

“kid loves it. tori stocks up on it.” Taking his own sip, his eyes don’t miss your smile.

“No wonder they’re always so hyper,” you muse, glancing over at the kid in question with affection who was practically lying on top of Papyrus. You wondered how they could sleep so soundly with nothing but bones under them. Maybe, because they weren’t conventional skeletons, they were softer to the touch? You pointedly avoid looking at Sans as you quickly dash away the thought.

“nah. they’ve always been like that.” Tapping an index finger on his glass, he allows himself a moment to word his next question. “so, uh… noticed you were drawing.” 

“Er, yeah…” Carefully hiding the hitch threatening to waver your voice, you glance at the sketchpad in your lap. 

“smart of you, to use the moon for light.” A small head tilt points your attention momentarily to the closest window.

A small smile appears on your face. “Yeah. Used to do it a lot. Nothing really beats natural lighting.”

Silence stretches almost awkwardly in the corner, a thumb trailing the rim of your glass as you stare into the pinkish red drink. Someone, you suspect Undyne, has started to snore, causing a strained smile from you and an eye roll from Sans. The amused glance you two share eases the tension that had settled unnoticed, and it’s you who speaks next.

“So whose idea was it to throw me a surprise?”

That familiar grin settles on his face as he replies, “was a mix of flora and undyne. and frisk. the poppers were the kid’s idea.”

“Nearly scared me half to death. Never had a surprise party and I never want one again.” Sans snorts as you chuckle, a hand smacking his shoulder gently as you add, “Oh hush. The fact that all of you take enjoyment out of scaring someone says a lot. I’m going to need to stay on my toes.”

“already jumpy enough as it is.” There’s a snicker this time. “i remember meeting you by being tackle.”

You scoff. “There were spiders, Sans. Thousands of little baby spiders just…” A shudder tingles down your spine. “Any normal person would have ran too.” You pause briefly. “I am still sorry for running into you like that.”

His shoulders rise in a shrug. “would have been boring otherwise.”

“That…” You shake your head with a quiet laugh. “That’s kinda true.”

Indeed it was. Either of you doubted you’d forget that event any time soon, the surprised and highly amused look of Sans flashing through your mind while your flushed and apologetic face cross through his, smiles mirroring each other as eyes meet.

Finishing off your fruit punch, you carefully place the glass beside you as you shift, straightening out your legs and revealing the sketch to Sans’ observing eyes. He swirls his drink as he says, “s’nice picture.”

Your first reaction is to cover it quickly with a hand, but seeming as he’d already seen it, you instead heave a sigh and reply quietly, “Thanks. Though it’s real rough and… Well, I’m rusty. Haven’t drawn in a long time.”

Reaching for it and, with your approving nod, lifting it carefully from your lap, he angles the book so the light filters directly on it, chasing away the shadows and revealing the sketch completely. It was almost a direct copy of the view before him if he looked up, sleeping figures identical to the ones comatose on the couch. Even Frisk’s disheveled hair was the same, aside from a bit of a flourish you added for emphasis. The skeleton had never been one for art, not just because there weren’t many paintings and such in the Underground, but somehow the lines and images you had created onto the page captivated him. He wasn’t certain if it was simply because he knew the models or the artist, but he was definitely positive he wanted to see it completed.

“I’m not sure how to take that smile-not-smile you have going right now,” you speak uncertainly, fingering the eraser now placed on your thigh. 

At your words, he looks up and adopts his familiar lazy grin, handing you the book back as he speaks. “it’s good.”

“You’re just saying that.” Accepting it with a nod of thanks, you set it back down on your lap, a critical artistic eye raking over the page. “There are so many mistakes I can’t even count them on both hands.”

“s’lot better than what i could do.”

Chuckling slightly, you look up at the sleeping figures. Papyrus had moved sometime during the conversation to place a hand on Frisk’s back and Undyne’s half exposed body shows evidence of Alphys stealing the blanket. Flora still remains hunched on the couch arm. The snoring, unfortunately, still grates through the air. “I’m sure your stick figures are to die for.”

“you’d be absolutely _stumped_ if you saw them.” His chuckle prompts your own. “so, uh…why’d you stop drawing?” It was the question that had been gnawing at the back of his mind the whole time, and as you look down with uncertainty and sorrow painted across your face, he almost regrets asking. 

He’s taking a breath to change the subject when you answer, voice barely a whisper. “I couldn’t stand looking at or doing anything that reminded me of, well…her.” The pencil appears in your hand, twirling around your thumb nervously.

“hey, uh... i didn’t mean to ask something personal.”

You shake your head quickly. “Nah, it’s okay. It was bound to be brought up eventually, especially with Flora having you all buy me this stuff.” You pause, wondering what had been going through your friend’s head when she suggested drawing supplies. She’d been with you your whole life, understood you on a level that sometimes even surpassed your own. It’s why you didn’t complain, didn’t ask when you realized what the gifts were. “She’s…definitely cunning.” A chuckle bubbles in your chest as you glance up to your red headed friend, drool shining down her cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.” Setting down the pencil and running fingers through your hair, you add quickly, “This got off topic fast.”

“s’okay,” comes the response just as fast, Sans’ eyes trained away. “if you uh…don’t wanna talk about it, that’s completely fine. didn’t mean to pry.”

Your smile doesn’t go unnoticed. “You’re sweet.” Closing the sketchbook and rising, you offer a hand. “We should probably get some more sleep before morning. After we put away our cups, that is.”

“wouldn’t want tori nagging at us.” Slipping his hand in yours, you once again feel the surprise at the heat it produces as he stands. You’re grateful for the dark hiding your sudden blush.

Scooping up your empty cup, you follow Sans into the kitchen, filling your glass with water while he downs his otherwise untouched punch, his glass accompanying yours in the sink shortly after. The short skeleton wanders back to the couch while you pile all your art supplies on the coffee table. When you finally join Sans on the couch, he’s already leaned back with his eyes closed.

Wrapping your half of the blanket around yourself, you whisper quietly, “Thanks for keeping me company, Sans.”

His eyes remain closed as he smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now THIS is the type of thing I'm more used to writing, and this is how a lot of future chapters will be written. This story will not be solely focused on the reader (as in, only knowing the reader's inner thoughts, etc), but for Sans as well, and others if the need arises. I really want to address the problems Sans has in the future with a focus on him and his thoughts.
> 
> But, please, tell me what you guys thought of this. While I may write with the focus going back and forth from the reader to another character often if not always in one-shots, I'm uncertain if it fits well in a multi-chapter fic. It's why this chapter took so long, because I wasn't quite sure, but I didn't know how else to get across both character's thoughts. I see it happen a lot with 3rd Person, but considering this is more of a mix of 2nd and 3rd Person... 
> 
> I just hope you guys like it ;w;  
> And also, sorry for the shortness of this chapter. But there's lots of fluff, so hopefully that makes up for it.


	9. Halcyon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 150+ kudos and 2000+ hits?!  
> You guys are absolutely amazing!! Thank you so much for the support!!!

It was way too early for this.

“I didn’t want to call you yesterday because Flora said she was throwing you a party with your new friends. Which is great to hear. You’ve been attached to Flora’s hip for so long I suspected you’d lost the ability to talk to other people.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you pad into the kitchen to put some distance between you and the other sleeping residences, mouthing an apology to the groggy Sans as he looks at you briefly before stealing the rest of the blanket. 

“Well obviously you thought wrong,” you whisper, fighting down a yawn. “Haven’t we had this conversation already?”

“Well.” He’d been ecstatic when you told him of Undyne, laughing endlessly when you shared all the bizarre stories she birthed with her short temper and quick tongue. Questions didn’t stop for hours when he learned of the rest of the group, but not before he teased you about running into Sans first. “Why do you sound so sleepy?”

“[NAME]! YOU’RE AWAKE?” the raised voice of Papyrus shakes your sleepy bones as you nearly jump in surprise. Taking in your wide eyed stare and the phone pressed to your ear, eye sockets squint and bone brows furrow as he adds more quietly, “I DIDN’T MEAN TO INTERRUPT.” With a shake from your head, he continues, “DON’T MIND ME. CONTINUE YOUR CONVERSATION.” Watching as he turns back to the oven, you finally take in the pink apron draped over his being and stifle a giggle.

“Who was that?” A dramatic intake of breath reaches your ear. “Was that one of your friends?”

“Why do you sound so…” Shaking your head, you lean against the counter. “Yes, that would be one of my friends. Papyrus.”

You see Papyrus smile from the corner of your eye.

“Tell this Papyrus I say hi!”

Tilting your head, you relay the message. “My dad says hi, Papyrus.”

“TELL HIM I SAY HI BACK AND I HOPE HE’S HAVING A WONDERFUL MORNING!” His hand doesn’t stop stirring whatever is in the pot as he sends a smile your way.

You return his smile as you speak. “He says hi and hopes you’re having a good morning.”

“That’s sweet! Even though it’s actually evening where I am right now.” There’s a short pause as that information sinks into your father’s questionably smart brain. “I woke you up, didn’t I?”

This time you allow a yawn to pass. “Uh, yeah, maybe a little bit.” The tease doesn’t even fully enter your voice as you stare at Papyrus groggily, half seeing through him as your mind desperately fights from the clutches of warm sleep.

“I honestly didn’t even think of the time difference. I’m a bit jet lagged still.” You can’t help the amusement blossoming in your chest at the strain in his voice.

“It’s fine.” Papyrus has finally noticed your dazed stare and has taken to giving you amused glances. “Anyway, uh…yeah.” Again your pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to think back to what you had been talking about before running into Papyrus. “Flora did throw me a party. A surprise party.” It was evident the skeleton with you wanted to say something by the way his eye sockets turned up in that way they did when he hid a smile. “It was uh…nice. Toriel baked me a cake.”

A wistful sigh drifts through the connection. “I haven’t had any homemade food in what seems like forever. You’ll cook for me when I return home, won’t you?”

“If throwing stuff into the microwave counts as cooking, sure.”

There’s a short tsk. “You’re no fun.”

“Yep, that’s me. Good ol’ boring daughter.”

“I raised you better than this.”

A smile turns your lips. “Yeah, yeah.”

“So, get anything good? I mean, I know nothing can compare to the gift I gave you. A parent’s gift is always the best.”

“Well…” You squint as you watch Papyrus carefully slip some noodles into another pot he had procured without your knowledge. Your mind really must be out of it if the water in it was already boiling. Or had it been there the whole time? You really didn’t know. “It led me to meet Undyne and everyone else, so…” 

A very amused hum sounds from your father. “So in the end my gift was more than just a building. Look at how thoughtful your dad is.” You wish he could see your eye roll. “So, back to the presents?”

“Right, uh…” Shifting slightly, you debate changing the subject. “They all pooled their money in to get me art supplies.” The silence you knew would greet those words come, but you speak before he can. “It’s alright, dad. I’m alright. It was Flora’s idea, and, well…you know Flora. Besides, I already filled up a page.” Swapping the hand that held the phone, you notice Papyrus’ expression holding a thoughtful look. Was it wise speaking about this in front of him?

“Well that’s…good.” The uncertain relief is evident in your father’s voice as he sighs. “You know if you ever want to talk…”

“I know, dad. I know.”

“As long as you know.” Even without him in front of you, you could see his kind and gentle expression. “I won’t keep you from your friends any longer. I gotta share you sometimes, unfortunately. I’ll call you later, alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Love you, sweetie.”

“Love you too, dad. Good luck with…well, whatever you’re doing wherever you are.”

“I’m in Seoul, in case you were wondering. Did you know that fast food places _deliver_ here? Do you know how _awful_ that would be if places over there started doing that? Some people would never leave their homes.”

“ _Good bye, dad,_ ” you laugh, tapping the red end call bubble and shaking your head. Hardly ever did your father miss a chance to share a useless fact you’d never forget. Slipping the phone into your pocket, you finally say your own good morning to Papyrus. “What’re you cooking there?”

“SPAGHETTI!” Brandishing his wooden spoon, he gives you a wide smile. “I WANTED TO MAKE YOU A BIRTHDAY MEAL LAST NIGHT, BUT I COULDN’T STAND NOT KNOWING WHAT HAPPENED NEXT IN THE MOVIES. SO I DECIDED TO MAKE IT FIRST THING IN THE MORNING INSTEAD!”

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you, Papyrus.” Mirroring his smile, you glance at the simmering pots. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“I SLEPT WELL, THANK YOU. IT TOOK QUITE CONSIDERABLE EFFORT TO MOVE FRISK WITHOUT WAKING THEM UP.”

“They’re a clinger?”

“THEY CUDDLE FIERCLY, YES.” He stirs the sauce as you chuckle. “DID YOU SLEEP WELL?”

“Yeah, I did. Thanks. Though Undyne’s snoring…” After you had gone back to sleep, occasionally you’d find yourself jerking awake at considerably loud snorts coming from the blue fish monster. Once you’d determine there was no gun being fired off anywhere near your vicinity, you’d settle back down uncertainly.

A pained look crosses the skeleton’s face as he nods meekly, his own memories surfacing. “SHE CAN GET QUITE…LOUD.”

“How do you all sleep through it?”

“PRACTICE.”

A laugh bubbles from that quick response. “You all have a lot of sleepovers, then?”

“I WOULDN’T SAY THAT.” Fiddling with the temperature gauges, he continues. “UNDYNE ENDED UP STAYING WITH SANS AND I WHEN HER HOUSE BURNT DOWN.”

“That’s what you meant when you said a lot of sleepovers happened.”

He nods enthusiastically. “ALPHYS AND UNDYNE LIVE TOGETHER, SO I’M SURE SHE’S BECOME USED TO IT TOO. NOT SURE ABOUT FRISK.”

“When we were that age, you could turn on a vacuum in the same room and Flora would sleep right through it.”

He squints. “YES. THEY REMIND ME OF MY BROTHER.”

An eyebrow raises at that fact. “Sans a heavy sleepy too?”

You almost regret asking by the pained sound Papyrus gives off. “YOU HAVE NO IDEA.”

Laughing, a glance toward the living room shows no change aside from the growing light coming from the windows. A shift from Frisk is the only movement to reside in that room by the time all the spaghetti is resting on plates, the rich looking sauce coating the noodles making your stomach growl as you set the table in the adjacent dining room, taking note how there’s coincidentally enough seats for everyone.

Toriel’s gentle form makes its way down the stairs when you stand back and give Papyrus a questioning look. “So. Who should go wake everyone up?”

“I’LL DO IT.” His expression isn’t one of eagerness when he speaks, but one of utter normalcy. Removing the pink apron and folding it carefully, he sets it on the counter as he moves. “I’M USED TO WAKING MY BROTHER UP ANYWAY.”

You flash Toriel a smile as she passes Papyrus to join you in the kitchen, murmuring a good morning to the skeleton as she does so. “He made spaghetti?”

“Something about a late birthday meal from him?”

Hiding a smile behind a large hand, she chuckles. “He’s such a sweetie.”

“That’s what I told him.”

“WAKE UP EVERYONE! THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAS MADE YOU BREAKFAST!” 

Resting one hand on his hip bone and another on his chest, Papyrus’ voice booms. Instantly there are sounds of discomfort and loud grumbling. Flora’s green eyes peel open, give Papyrus a long, hazy look, then proceed to be covered when she promptly bury her whole self under her blanket. Undyne attempts to do the same, only to find webbed fingers clutching at nothing, Alphys having wrapped herself in a makeshift cocoon with the once shared bedding. There’s no movement from Frisk at all, mirroring Sans’ coma like state as Papyrus once again calls out.

“IT’S A BEAUTIFUL MORNING AND IT’D BE A TERRIBLE SHAME TO SLEEP IT ALL AWAY!” 

A quick glance out the kitchen window proves Papyrus’ comment to be true, and you share a brief smile with Toriel as she helps you place the silverware around the plates. 

“So, Toriel?” you speak up, placing the last fork down.

“Yes?” she questions, catching your eyes as you look up.

“Do you have any ASL books?”

“Of course, dear! Why do you ask?”

Walking back into the kitchen and glancing over toward the living room, you fight back a laugh as you see Papyrus collecting all of the blankets into a pile near the TV, ignoring all of the complaints thrown his way. “I want to be able to understand Frisk.”

Toriel’s eyes widen as she gently claps her palms together. “Oh, of course! You’re free to borrow them! I’m sure Frisk would love to help you learn!” Mirroring your glance, she pauses briefly. “I’d get them now, but…”

You laugh, watching as Undyne is the first to stand and stretch, holding a hand out to Alphys once she’s done. Frisk, at some point having made their way to the carpet in what you suspect was a last ditch effort to save their blanket, yawn as they crawl into a hunched walk. Sans, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, flashes a smile at Papyrus as he passes him by, nodding to something his brother says in return. Flora simply rises only to dive into the pile of blankets.

“Breakfast first, yeah.” Smiling wide, you greet Frisk as they shuffle into the kitchen. They simply nod and give their mother a hug.

“Morning, child,” hums Toriel, patting them on the head. “Breakfast is on the table. Pick a seat and I’ll get your punch, okay?”

Another nod and more shuffles. You only have a brief moment to share a smile with Toriel before Undyne walks in, beelining instantly for the coffee machine sitting at the far end of the counter. Alphys draws out two mugs with ease as her girlfriend pours some coffee grounds into the machine. Their movements show a routine, and you can’t help but feel slightly amazed at their chemistry as Alphys hands Undyne a mug and blush slightly as Undyne brushes her lips against her forehead in thanks.

“i can steal your ketchup, right?” Sans’ deep voice grabs your attention as he shuffles himself into the kitchen, a lazy grin dancing on his face. With Toriel’s “Of course,” he grabs the ketchup bottle from the fridge and passes a wink your way. Rolling your eyes, his smile is contagious as he uncaps the bottle and tosses you the top. You nearly miss in surprise. “good catch.”

"Is it a skeleton thing, or a monster thing, or what?” you can’t help but ask, peering with slight disdain as he tips ketchup into his mouth. 

“IT’S A SANS THING,” answers Papyrus, accepting a glass filled with punch handed to him by Toriel.

“It’s, uh…gross.” Finally catching up to everyone else, Flora gives Sans a measured look. “Granted it’s probably kinda healthy for you, ketchup being tomatoes and all. Is that coffee? Share, please, unless you want me to fall asleep at the dining table.”

“I’d love to see you fall asleep with your face in the food,” you snicker, referencing to the time her head nodded into her bowl of cereal after a long night of studying once in high school.

Your amusement is one sided as her face contorts. “I got milk in my eyes.” Ignoring the grin from Undyne as she greedily accepts a mug filled with her caffeine lineline, she shoots you a look. “Do you know how that feels? No. No you don’t. It was awful. It stung. It was the worst morning of my life.”

“You aced the test though.”

“I failed it with flying colors.”

“Same thing, just on the other end of the spectrum.”

Groaning, she takes a long drink from her coffee, refilling her tolerance toward you. “You know what? It’s too early for your sass. I’m going to go claim a seat and be the queen of the hill.”

“Okay? Uh, have fun? I’ll be there in a sec.” 

Giving you a slight wave, she plops herself next to Frisk, who is poking their noodles lazily, eyes half closed. She nods in understanding, patting the kid on the head as she does so, causing the poor child’s head to dip into the spaghetti and cover their nose in sauce. Her horrified expression throws a laugh from your chest as she quickly grabs the nearest napkin.

“What do you want to drink, child?” Pouring a cup of punch for Frisk, Toriel grabs your attention as she nods towards the empty glass next to it.

Eyeing the now abandoned empty pot of coffee, you shrug. “Uh, punch works, I guess.”

With drink in hand, you join everyone in the dining room, finding an empty seat between Alphys and Sans, who continues to direct glances your way every time he tips the ketchup bottle up. Papyrus and Toriel are the only ones to really talk during the beginning of breakfast, everyone else still too groggy to have a clear train of thought. Papyrus deserves all the praise he gets from you and Flora, and his beaming smile and happy gestures go miles in setting the morning mood. By the time all the spaghetti is eaten, courtesy of Frisk, Flora, and yourself asking for seconds, everyone is contributing to some sort of conversation.

Thinking back, you don’t believe you’ve ever been surrounded by so many friends before. It was heartwarming, and when you all eventually gravitate toward the living room only to continue the idle chatter, you’re certain you wouldn’t mind staying like this forever. But, just as the world keeps spinning, time keeps marching, and before you know it you’re carefully slipping your art supplies and ASL books in a borrowed, unused backpack of Frisk’s while Alphys shrugs a jacket on and Flora shoves her shoes on.

“Thanks again for letting me borrow the books, Toriel.” Slinging the small pack over your shoulder, you add quickly, “And the backpack.”

Frisk’s hands move quickly, Toriel’s voice giving the signs sound. “My home is always open to you, child. If you find a want to practice your signing, feel free to come by.”

An arm snakes over your shoulders as Flora speaks up. “She’s going to come and ransack your house now.”

“I will not!” Thrusting a thumb in your friend’s direction, you give Toriel a concerned look. “She will though. She can’t ever be unsupervised.”

“I am a grown woman, thank you! I believe society would call me an adult.” Leading you out the door with everyone following behind, she nods toward her baby blue Volkswagen Beetle. “Want a ride?”

“And ignore the beautiful sunshine? I’ll walk. This is why I’ll live longer than you.”

“I’ll be laughing atop your grave, just watch.” Giving a wink, the weight on your shoulders disappear as she crosses to her slug bug.

“WITH MY CAR, YOU CAN ENJOY THE SUNSHINE AND THE DRIVE!” The red convertible you only just notice beeps into existence as Papyrus presses the unlock button.

It takes all your self control to keep your jaw from hitting the sidewalk underfoot.

Flora’s whistle rings through the air. “That’s _yours_?” 

The tall skeleton puffs his chest out proudly. “JEALOUS? DON’T WORRY, STRANGE HUMAN, I’D BE MORE THAN GLAD YOU TAKE YOU ON A CRUISE SOMEDAY!”

“I’m holding you to that.” Her finger points ominously. “I will be a very mad strange human if you’re lying to me.”

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS NEVER LIES!”

Her digit remains pointed in his direction as she slowly opens her door and eases herself into the car. Even when the engine starts and the slug bug begins to roll back, it remains. Only when the frame of the car hides her form from view does the pointed phalange disappear, and you give props to Papyrus as he waves energetically the whole time, no worse for wear. 

“She takes weirdness to a whole new level.” Crossing to the truck parked next to Papyrus’, Undyne opens the passenger seat for Alphys, who flashes a thankful smile.

“I like her,” replies the yellow monster, hopping into her seat.

Snorting, Undyne closes that door and moves to open her own. “She didn’t even say bye. Just pointed.” Raising a hand, she calls out, “See you dorks later! And don’t worry about the showers of praise I know you’re dying to give me for throwing you the best birthday ever, [Name]. You have a few months to plan mine. I expect something big!” And with that, she pulls out of the driveway, a waving Alphys in the shotgun seat, and drives away.

Heaving a big sigh, you can’t fight down the chuckle that bubbles in your chest. Were monster birthday parties celebrated the same as human birthdays? The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind until now, and you make a mental note to ask Alphys later.

A deep voice beside you grabs your attention, and you turn to Sans’ familiar grin. His eye lights, usually bright and dancing with amusement, hold a hint of concern as he says casually, “be safe walkin’ home.”

Holding his gaze steadily, you nod. “I will. You be safe going home too. Some people have no clue how to drive.” Speaking of, which of the brothers was going to drive?

Before you can entertain the question, strong arms wrap you in a hug, picking your feet off the ground and nearly squashing all breath you had in your lungs. A warm, white cheek bone meets the crown of your head as the embrace peaks, and right when your chest starts to burn is when you’re suddenly back on the driveway pavement, arms and back aching but with a huge smile painting your face, mirroring the one on Papyrus’.

“I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOYED YOUR BIRTHDAY! I’D LOVE TO GET TOGETHER AGAIN AND MAYBE TEACH YOU HOW TO COOK?” With a nod from you, he beams even brighter than you thought was possible. “LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU’RE AVAILABLE TO HANG OUT NEXT, OKAY? I CAN’T WAIT!” He nearly skips over to the convertible and plops happily into the driver’s seat, fingers drumming excitedly on the steering wheel.

Sans chuckles, following his brother’s route more slowly to the car. When they’re both buckled in and with the engine purring, Papyrus slips on a pair of sunglasses before backing out, and soon it’s just you, Toriel, and Frisk left at the house. 

Positioning the bag more comfortably on your shoulder, you bend to give Frisk a hug. “Well, I better get going too.” Patting Frisk on the head, you straighten to face Toriel. “Thanks for letting me stay over. And baking that cake. And letting the party be here.”

Drawing you into her own hug, a giggle reaches your ears. “It was no problem, child. Be safe going home, okay?”

You nod, willing your reluctant feet down and away onto the sidewalk. Continuously looking back until you turn a corner and the house winks out of sight, the smile remains on your face the whole walk back to the apartment. It’s only until you turn the lock and push the door open does it fall, fingers gripping the doorknob painfully as you stare in utter shock at the scene before you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed last week's update, I know. I'm sorry, guys ;w; I'll try not to have that happen again, but instead of pushing out a chapter, I wanted to give this one a bit of time. More than meeting deadlines, I want to give you guys good chapters. Hopefully good chapters, anyway. The more a chapter sits, the more I start to not like it. So I'm really hoping you like it, even if hardly anything happened.
> 
> And no I'm not sorry for the cliffhanger.  
> Love you guys <3


	10. Succor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, did you guys notice that before the chapter, the word count was at 22,202? 20 more words and it coulda been straight 2s across the board.
> 
> That woulda been cool.

Fear gripped your chest painfully, dripping its venom into your veins and sucking all rational thought from your mind like a hungry leech. Your heartbeats were painful, beating against your ribcage like a trapped animal, the terror traveling in your blood closing your windpipe and causing limbs to shake, the grip on the doorknob increasing until not just your knuckles but your very fingers turned white. Breath came shakily, widened eyes darting about the room as if looking for a reason for the scene they were forced to take in. Confusion and shock threaten to drown you in their murky waters, and you quite nearly stumble back a step as your fight or flight response kicks in.

It was an absolute mess.

Possessions were strewn everywhere; books, covers bent and pages ripped, littered the carpet. The hoodies from the closet were thrown every which way, the cushions from the flipped over couch just gone. The television was tipped on its side, the entertainment center’s drawers lying on the other side of the living room, presumably thrown. Movie and game cases floated about the area, some bent backwards, others missing their discs entirely. Glass piles, remnants of the decorative vases now once owned, give the whole picture a shine as light from the opened windows glint off the shards. A quick glance towards the kitchen shows the same amount of ruin; fridge door thrown open wide, trash knocked down and scattered across the tile, spoiling food rotting the air. 

You could only imagine what the bathroom and, hell, your bedroom looked like.

It was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

The reality of your situation hits you full force as you kick the door shut and lean against it for dear life. Your cell phone is in your hand before you can even blink, shaking fingers attempting to navigate the menu, but before your thumb presses the call button, you freeze. Flora’s name swims in your blurry vision, every part of you screaming for her attention, for anyone’s attention, to find help and soon, but as your frantic thoughts fight each other for dominance, one in particular screams the loudest. A ridiculous notion but one your instincts can’t ignore, and as your eyes rise once more to the ruin that has become your home, the suspicion solidifies, concreting itself into your mind and spreading a mixture of eerie calm and absolute panic through your chest.

This wasn’t some random burglary, if one could even call it that. People who steal tend to go for expensive things, but here was your flat screen TV, tipped but still obviously there. The decorative vases, some which could go for hundreds of dollars, smashed to pieces. There wasn’t much of value in your apartment, even more so now, but what you deemed the most expensive were still there. No, the whole placed seemed more reminiscent of a child’s temper tantrum.

Feeling your back slide down the painted wood, you draw your knees up, fingers clutching your phone in a near death grip as you tear your tear stained vision away and down toward something you could recognize. Thumbing through the contacts tab until you find his name, your bottom lip gets trapped between your teeth as you stare uncertainly at the lit screen, shoulders shaking with uneven breath.

If this was the actions of the man who had smiled in glee at your soaked form, who had had pure unadulterated hate in his eyes when telling Rivera’s family that they didn’t belong, then the name your thumb hovered over was the correct one to call. You knew that, but you also knew that you and him had been acquainted for barely a month. Did you have any right to call him in near hysterics, to ask for his time? No, more importantly, did you want him to see you in tears, see you scared and shaking and in need? You prided yourself in being strong, in being able to handle whatever life decided to throw at you. That’s what you wanted others to see; an independent, thoughtful woman who continued walking forward even when life tried to drag her down.

A choked laugh escapes your chest at the thought. Who were you kidding? You haven’t been able to walk a single step in two years. Instead you’ve had to let your best friend take the initiative, to judge that you were being too weak and have the courage to shove a step out of you. 

Shaking your head quickly, you steel your resolve and tap the call button. This was no time to have a mental breakdown. You could berate yourself all you wanted later once you figured out this mess before you.

It takes only two short rings. “hullo?”

“Sans?” Instead of sounding leveled like you hoped, your voice shakes out his name in a squeak.

“[name]?” His tone of voice instantly changes, concern dripping from every syllable. “hey. are you okay?”

Not by a long shot. Warm, fresh tears fill your vision as you look out at your living room. The response comes out in barely a whisper. “No.”

“where are you?”

“Home.”

“stay there. i’ll be right over.”

The connection statics for a moment and you barely have time to register the noise before a knock sounds behind you. You curl into yourself, phone pressed almost painfully against your ear, willing whoever was on the other side of the door to go away, not now, now wasn’t the time.

The knock sounds again, and from both the connection and through the door, you hear, “knock knock.”

Your breath hitches, uncertain if it wants to create a chuckle or a groan. “Who’s there?”

“nobel.”

“Nobel who?”

“nobel, that’s why i knocked.” 

It’s the breathiest chuckle you’ve ever created, but a chuckle nonetheless. Somehow finding the strength to rise to your feet, you crack the door to come face to face with Sans, his greeting smile disappearing instantly at the sight of your tears. Moving his phone from his would be ear to his pocket, his eyes roam your face.

“what happened?”

All it takes is to fully open your door for his expression to change once more.

Anger flares instantly in his eyes as he takes in the state of your living room. Hiding clenched fists in hoodie pockets, he takes your retreat from the door as an invitation to step in. As you wipe at the tears rolling down your cheeks, he takes note of every misplaced and ruined item, mind running furiously for the answer of who and why, disgust roiling in his nonexistent stomach as he comes to the same conclusion you had. 

Taking a deep breath, it doesn’t take much to turn away and toward you, noting your hunched shoulders and red eyes. By the time he can even question whether his actions are okay or not you’re in his arms, forehead pressed against his shoulder as a hand rubs up and down your back soothingly, soft murmured words of safety and comfort. He’s unaware of how long you two stay like that, but eventually you lift your head and wipe at your eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” you sniff, looking away.

“s’alright. we all cry sometimes.” A smile graces his face as he asks, “you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” A nod accompanies your words. “Yeah.” A deep breath helps to slow your heartbeat and gather your thoughts. “What am I suppose to do? I mean…” The gesture towards the living room lacks any sort of energy. “I haven’t even seen what my bedroom looks like yet… God…”

“should probably tell the owners, for starters.” Every motion you make is watched extra carefully, his gaze noting every breath, every subtle change in expression.

“And tell them what?” Your voice almost cracks, fresh tears burning behind your eyes as you fight them back. “There’s no proof that…” That the man you suspect had done this was actually the culprit. Hell, even you were unsure about it, and what would happen if you were wrong? It’d just bring about more malice from him and his friends. But what if you were right? Wouldn’t that lead to the same result anyway? 

He knows your situation all too well. “tell them anyway.”

Your nod is a bit too soon, a bit too eager. “Right. Right.” Pressing the heel of your palm against your forehead, you focus on keeping your breath leveled. “Right. And then…I gotta clean this place up. Oh god, it’s going to take forever…” A change of lock wouldn’t hurt either. Hopefully the complex would allow that. 

“one step at a time.” Replacing his hand on your back, he feels each intake of breath and internally nods in relief. Compared to Alphys, you were much better at dealing with hysteria, though he has to quickly quell his suspicions as to why. Another day, another time. Right now, you needed support and he was going to be the best damn pillar he could be.

“Yeah. Right. Right. Step one, go to the office.” 

“step one, we step outside and sit there.”

“What?”

Nodding toward the door, he repeats himself. “we’re going to step outside and take in the outside air.”

Regardless of the confusion swimming in your brain, you allow Sans to lead you past the door frame and out into the cool, spring afternoon. Leaning against the building, you watch as he disappears back inside briefly to grab the bag filled with art supplies, setting it beside you carefully as you’re filled with overwhelming gratitude for the skeleton. Not only had he dropped everything to see you, he was also thoughtful enough to retrieve your only untouched treasure from the mess of your home, a treasure you yourself had forgotten about until just now.

“Thank you.” The words pass your lips quickly, another set of tears asking to be shed. “You’ve barely known me for, what, a few weeks? And here you are, doing all of this—” you gesture to nowhere in particular “—just because you can.” The tears were winning, once again blurring your vision. “I can’t thank you enough, Sans. And I’m sorry if I interrupted anything by me calling.”

“don’t worry about it.” Unsure of what to say, he shrugs and leans next to you, gaze drifting out to the parking lot. “what are you friends for?”

It was a good idea, leaving the mess of your home to the outside. The familiar thrum of passing cars help to calm your nerves, the blue sky above reminding you that brightness still existed in the world, if the skeleton next to you wasn’t enough of a reminder. And look, there was Rivera and Coen, walking out to their mailbox. You watch as the poor child trips, diving face first into the pavement but seeming to bounce right back up, a toothy grin painting his face.  
“he still does that?” Sans’ amused voice travels lazily through the air, and you shoot him a questioning eyebrow raise at his chuckle. “glad to see some things never change.”

“I know Undyne knows him, but you know Coen too?”

“yeah, i’d see him all the time when i visited waterfall.” 

You knew of the general areas that made up Underground thanks to Undyne. “I’m guessing that’s where he used to live?”

“undyne too.”

“What about you?” 

“pap and i lived in a place called snowdin. three guesses as to the weather there.”

A smile graces your lips. “Really hot and humid, got it.”

His eye roll is followed by a chuckle. “nailed it.”

“Aw yeah, look how smart I am!” Coen is holding the letters in his mouth as he follows his mother back across the parking lot, and you try hard not to think of how sanitary that is. 

“Hey, Sans?”

“hm?”

“Do you ever miss it there? In the Underground?”

Sans doesn’t reply until the yellow scaled child and his mother are back inside their home, though the silence that blankets the two of you isn’t uncomfortable. “not really. nothing beats the sky, y’know?”

With his words in mind, you glance up. “I can’t even imagine looking up and not seeing this. You guys had it tough, and now we’re just making it tougher.” He glances at you but remains silent. “I mean, you all finally get free and what greets you? Human selfishness and cruelty. Even the government wanted nothing to do with you guys in the beginning.” A sigh escapes as you lower your gaze. “We can’t even get along with ourselves. We’re an awful species, and I’m sorry for that.”

One blink, another, and even after the third words still escape him. You weren’t the first to acknowledge the cruelty humanity is capable of, nor were you the first to apologize for it. Maybe it was the fact that you were standing here, outside of the home you found trashed by another human, the day after having water dunked on your head, and _you_ were apologizing to _him_ about the shortcomings of humanity.

If only everyone was cut from the same cloth as you. A person so accepting that they instantly hire a monster off the street, treat her and her friends no different than anyone else, stick up for a family just trying to survive, and have no ill words for their predicament when their own species turns against them. If more humans were like you, then monsters wouldn’t be in the situation they were in, with freedom only from a bribed government and, hell, maybe monsters would never have had to be erased from history to begin with.

“I think I’m ready for the next step.”

Your words pull Sans from his thoughts. “yeah?”

You nod, sending him a smile. “I’ve calmed down quite a lot, thanks to you. I really can’t thank you enough, Sans.”

He speaks his next words with utter confidence. “s’nothin’. you woulda done the same for me.”

“Of course. I’m just one phone call away.” Pushing off the building and taking a deep breath, you add, “If you want to go back home, you can. You’ve done so much for me already, I couldn’t ask for you to do any more. I can handle it from here, I think.”

Your pose was definitely more normal, back straight and shoulders set. Yet it wouldn’t feel right, leaving you alone with a trashed house. “nah, i’m good. which way is the office?”

You point down a road that leads deeper into the complex. “Down that way.”

“cool. let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates back to back? Whaaaaaaaaat? I know .A. I literally sat down today and did not stop writing. I had a good flow going! So I took advantage of it. And yes, I let this chapter sit so I could go back and proofread, so you could have gotten it sooner but I wanted to make sure everything was alright, since that's what I do. I let my chapters sit a bit so I'm in a different set of mind when I proofread.
> 
> Anyway, take this as an apology for my missed update! D':


	11. Affable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200+ kudos and 2,500+ hits. Thank you so much guys!!

“Weeks of homework, just…gone.” Peering at a ripped page in your hand and recognizing the algebraic equation and half of your solved answer, it wasn’t hard to deduce that the rest of your homework was scattered across your ruined apartment in a similar state. The headache you’ve felt growing for the past hour felt a little less tolerable as you sigh.

The whole situation could be a lot worse, and it was that thought along with Sans’ stable presence that kept your mind from dipping into more undesirable thoughts and, ultimately, keeping the wave that would certainly overwhelm you at bay. He was good at picking out your expressions and always had a well timed pun up his sleeve, and to your surprise you found the task of cleaning up your ruined possessions kind of…fun. Not that, given the position, you’d deny the want to be anywhere but here doing anything but this, but the grin he’d frequently pass your way and the occasional supportive pat on the shoulder went miles in keeping you optimistic. 

“i used to hate math,” responds the skeleton beside you casually, glancing at the page in your hand.

“Really?” Setting the paper down on your lap, you reach for more of the torn pages.

“yup. but then i realized decimals have a _point._ ” His grin widens as you turn to him with a raised eyebrow. He takes it as a sign to keep talking. “though i still have trouble with square numbers. can never find the _root_ of the problem.” Your laugh doesn’t slow his momentum. “never miss your classes, kid. they really start _adding_ up.”

Holding your side with one hand and gently slapping his shoulder with the other, you choke out between the fits of laughter, “Oh my god, Sans, stop.”

“what? are my puns a _problem?_ ”

“ _Sans._ ” 

The grin he beams your way is one of smug amusement, and you don’t hold back on sending him the most exaggerated eye roll in history. “ _sum_ people just don’t appreciate a good pun.”

“Stop,” you hiccup, “before I decide to stuff you in the trash where you belong.”

A hand flies to his chest. “ouch. that one hurt a bit.”

Laughing fit subsiding, you wipe your damp eyes and shake your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He shrugs. “makes sense. math puns are the first _sine_ of madness.”

“ _Oh my god._ ”

Chuckling, he waves a hand absentmindedly between you two. “fine, fine. i’m done.”

“Really?”

The look he gives you is one of pure mischief, clearly saying, ‘not in the slightest.’

Your disapproving look only helps in widening his grin. Opting to just send another eye roll, you gather what torn paper you can and rise to your feet, shuffling over and dumping all your hard work into the trashcan. “I really hope my teachers will understand when my homework is late.” Rubbing the back of your neck with a sigh, you take in the state of the apartment.

The kitchen was the first to be tackled, both of you agreeing to not let any more food spoil. Not that there was much in the spoiling department, thankfully, probable evidence that the ransacking had occurred sometime that morning. So after determining that a long shopping trip awaited you in the near future, you set to work on piling the silverware in the sink while Sans branched into the living room, clearing away the broken DVD cases and discs while throwing stray blankets over the piles of broken glass. Most of the drinkware were strangely missing, though the stray glass pieces you found frequently across the kitchen answered the question of their fate. 

Regardless of the stray conversations that flitted into being, your mind continuously ran over the question of ‘what next?’ It wasn’t until you were asked to give the name of the man you suspected had trashed your place that you realized you hadn’t ever caught it, and description could only go so far in a complex full of people. And since there was no proof that he had in fact done the deed, you could only nod in saddened understanding when they told you that they probably couldn’t do anything unless he confessed, which didn’t seem very probable. The only highlight of the whole situation was the allowance of a lock change, which they promised would happen in the next few days.

Until then, you would be stuck with a nagging fear that he would return, a fear that maybe the lock change wouldn’t matter, that you blaming him with no proof to give would just piss him off. And since you lived alone, well…

That was a thought you definitely didn’t want to entertain for long.

But where to go? You didn’t feel comfortable staying here, but the want to keep the whole thing a secret limited your already limited options considerably. Flora would catch on too quickly, and while she would support you the best she could, she already had enough problems to worry about pertaining to you and you had no desire to add onto the burden. Considering what you knew of Undyne’s temper, you were certain you wanted to avoid that whole situation entirely, and since Alphys lived with her, she became out of the question by default. Toriel and Frisk, maybe, since Frisk knew of the water incident already, but the fact they were still a child made you hesitate, and Toriel’s motherly ways, while reassuring, also made you uncomfortable and reminded you of the considerable wound you were still nursing. 

That left Sans and Papyrus. Papyrus’ reaction you could clearly picture, a loud, boisterous excitement at another sleep over ringing clearly in your head. But it wasn’t as if you were blind to the little brother’s sharp wit. Or was it more intuition? Papyrus catered to everyone’s unspoken needs almost seamlessly, paying attention to the little things that spoke volumes. It was clear if only one paid attention; in the way he lowered his voice when talking to Alphys or the questions he opted not to ask when he listened to your chat with your father that morning. Even with his seemingly naïve personality, or perhaps because of his naivety, you were certain nothing passed by without his notice, that he understood more than he let on.

Which brings you to the topic of Sans. Quiet with a strange sense of humor, this particular skeleton didn’t miss much either. You weren’t certain, but the fact that he already seemed to have your expressions on lock spoke a lot of his observation skills. He was quiet because he watched, a skill you could relate to and ultimately notice, and you wonder just how much he had pieced together about you already. Not that it was much of a problem, since you didn’t have much to hide anyway, but the thought itself was intriguing enough.

“am i that handsome that you can’t help but to stare?”

You’re slapped out of your thoughts by his voice. Blinking back into reality, you dart your eyes quickly away when you notice they were indeed resting on him, fighting down the blush threatening to dust your cheeks. “Uh, sorry.”

A simple, nonchalant shrug follows his words. “s’no problem.” His eyes rest on your profile briefly. “so…i was thinking, since the sun’s starting to set, we should probably stop for the day.”

A brief glance out the window proves his words correct. “Holy—! When did it get so late?” More importantly… “I did not mean to keep you so late! I’m so sorry!”

Standing up and patting nonexistent dirt off his striped basketball shorts, his hands are quick to go back to their signature place in his hoodie. “s’no problem.”

“Still won’t stop me from feeling bad.” Which was exactly why Sans was off the table for a sanctuary. Not that you would have been quick to entertain the thought anyway, since you were most obviously a female while him and Papyrus were most obviously males. Not that you didn’t trust them – it was the exact opposite – it was just something that you were taught at a very young age to avoid.

However, you were also taught to avoid dangerous situations, and staying alone in an apartment that had obviously been broken into was high up on that list, you were sure. Which ultimately led back to simply not wanting to impose any further than you already had.

“so, uh…you have a place to stay, right?”

You glance at him quickly, crossing your arms as you debate how to answer him. “Uh…?”

“flora?” he offers, padding across the carpet to stand in front of you.

“She…uh.” You intentionally avoid his gaze.

“m’sure tori would take you.”

“Yeah. I’m, I’m sure she would.” Could you sound any more uncomfortable?

Silence settles between you two as he simply searches your face, the attention causing your cheeks to heat up as your fingers twiddle with a stray string on your shirt. After a few moments he sighs, shifting his weight as he speaks. 

“i’d catch hell if i let you stay here, and i’m not gonna allow that to happen anyway. my place is available, if you’re alright with a couch.”

You were afraid of this. “I’ve already imposed enough as it is, Sans. I couldn’t ask you to do more.” Yup, you were definitely sounding like a broken record at this point.

“good thing you’re not askin’, huh?”

Eyes snap to his as your brow furrows, but no words come forth for an argument. “You’d…really be alright with that?”

There’s that shrug. “it’ll probably be better than when undyne stayed with us.”

A smile works its way onto your lips at that thought. “I definitely don’t snore, at least.”

“not like that, anyway.”

Wait. “I snore?”

His smile gives away his answer, even when no words come forth.

You sigh heavily, seeming to deflate from within. “That’s disheartening.”

“not as bad as undyne,” he reminds.

“Still doesn’t really help, but thanks, skele.”

“anytime.” His grin is infectious.

“You’re really okay with me staying?”

“wouldn’t have asked if i wasn’t serious.”

You study his relaxed expression, smile ever prominent and eyes never drifting from your own. After a few seconds of thought, you give in, pinching the bridge of your nose as you do. “Fine. You win.”

“cool.”

“Let me, uh, grab some…clothes… I haven’t even entered my bedroom yet are there even clothes salvageable?” Groaning quietly, you fight to ignore the twinge of fear as you carefully make your way to the hallway, feeling goose bumps prickling your skin as you take in the open door. As you step closer, relief seeps through your chest.

Aside from looking like a mini tornado had passed through and thrown your clothes every which way, there was no broken glass or anything dangerous that you could see. The alarm clock was sitting in your closet right next to one of the couch cushions, and the drawers from your bedside table and dresser were not in their places and sitting in random spots in the room, empty, but at least in one piece. A hole in the wall showed where a drawer had been thrown, but no other damage was noticeable aside from your suspicion that the alarm clock would no longer function.

“It’s not…too bad,” you offer into the air, venturing slowly into the space and looking around. “I did have a spare backpack in the closet, but…well, my schoolbag will have to do. It’s out in the living room, right?” Aside from a broken zipper or two, it would still work as an adequate suitcase.

“i’ll get it.” Sans, who had followed behind, speaks up, leaving you briefly as he retrieves your bag, setting it next to his feet and leaning himself against the doorframe when he returns.

Unsure of which article of clothing was dirty and which wasn’t, you just shrug and throw whatever your hands grab onto first into the bag. Mismatched socks, two pairs of jeans, three T-shirts and two tank tops, a handful of underwear, a pair of pajama pants, and soon you’re ready, struggling with the broken zippers as you make your way to the front door. Bending down to retrieve your art supplies, Sans fishes out his phone as you open the door.

Taking in a big lungful of air, you turn as the skeleton taps on the screen. “You’re left handed?”

“huh?” Glancing at you briefly in confusion, he answers, “yeah.”

“Huh. Never noticed before.” Twirling the key ring around your index finger, you ask, “How we getting there?” You pause. “How did you get here?”

His grin widens as he looks up. “you’re just now askin’ that?”

“Well, excuse me for having more important issues to think about.” Smiling, you watch as Sans slips his phone back in his pocket and closes the door. You move to turn the lock.

“i took a shortcut.” 

“A shortcut?” Tilting your head, you peer at him curiously. “You got here in like, a second. Never heard of a shortcut like that.”

Lifting his hands and wiggling fingers in your direction, he squints his eye sockets and whispers, “magic.”

Laughing, you shake your head. “Sounds handy.”

“yup.”

“So, how we getting to your place? I do have a car, contrary to popular belief, if you know how to get there from here.”

His eyes settle on your form for a moment as he shrugs. “sure.”

Fumbling with the key fob, you lead Sans to your plain, old car. Low to the ground with a tick in the engine, it wasn’t much to look at, but you didn’t mind so long as it got you from point A to point B. Whenever possible you opted to walk – except during the winter – choosing to appreciate nature, enjoy the nice weather, and get a bit of exercise in that you wouldn’t bother getting any other way. So having a car that wasn’t fancy never bothered you, and getting a car that was fancy never seemed important. 

Sans simply gives the car a glance before hopping in, setting your art supplies by his feet while you slip in next to him, throwing your bag into the backseat and starting the engine. “So, do we make a right or left out of here?”

“uh,” is simply his reply as he leans back, a sly grin growing slowly on his face.

“Sans.” Directing the car to the exit of the complex, you try very hard not to grip the steering wheel anxiously. “Sans don’t do this to me.”

It takes all he can to not spare a glance in your direction. “i _auto_ know where i’m going, don’t worry.”

“Left or right?”

“ _oil_ think about it.” Before you can even open your mouth he adds quickly, “right.”

Maneuvering your way into traffic, you’re suddenly feeling that headache again. “Sans.”

“hm?”

“I have no problems dumping you out on the side of the road.”

“how will you get to my place, then?”

“I do have Papyrus’ number.”

A long, leveled look trains on the side of your face as he contemplates his choices. Concluding he’d rather not expend energy to shortcut his way home, he props his elbow against the door and his hand against his chin as he gives his answer. “fine. car puns are _exhausting_ anyway.”

You’d never admit it, but that one brought a smile, and with that, he drops the puns and obediently leads you through town. You find that the skele household is only a mile or so away from the café, and you point that out as you pull up next to Papyrus’ shiny red convertible. With only a hummed response, he leads you up the driveway and through the entrance, the immediate smell of cooking food hitting your nostrils and reminding you of how hungry you were.

The brother’s household is smaller than Toriel’s, consisting of only one floor instead of two. There wasn’t much for decoration that you could see, aside from a few pictures on the walls and a rock covered with sprinkles sitting on a table in the far side of the living room. That, along with a string of sticky notes stuck above a sock resting lazily against a wall, prompts an eyebrow raise and a questioning glance at Sans, who merely grins and encompasses the whole area in a wide gesture. “welcome to the nest.”

“SANS?” Papyrus’ familiar voice drifts from the direction you can only deduce is the kitchen, for a moment later the skeleton in question walks into view, a bright baby-blue apron with the words “Kiss the Chef” written in white across the front adorning his form. “AND [NAME]! HELLO! I ALMOST HAVE DINNER READY!”

“I can smell that,” you smile, laughing as he crosses to pick you up in a bear hug.

“I WAS SO EXCITED TO HEAR THAT YOU WANTED TO HAVE ANOTHER SLEEP OVER SO SOON! IT MUST GET LONELY ALL BY YOURSELF!” Setting you back onto your feet, he bumps his puffed out chest with a fist. “WORRY NOT, DEAR HUMAN! FOR PAPYRUS’ HOME IS YOUR HOME!”

Suddenly sheepish, you grip the arm of your backpack tightly as you shift. “Thanks, Papyrus.”

“OF COURSE! NOW EXCUSE ME, FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS MUST GET BACK INTO THE KITCHEN BEFORE SOMETHING BURNS!” With a little wave and a smile, he disappears back where he came from.

Feeling uncertain, a thumb rubs absentmindedly on your bag’s arm as you slip off your shoes and hesitantly venture onto the carpet. Stopping next to the couch and glancing around, you don’t even bother trying to hide how uncomfortable you are to be in their home, the thought of being a burden weighing heavily on your shoulders.

Setting the small bag full of art supplies against the couch, the shorter skeleton speaks up. “’s’pretty comfortable, if i do say so myself.”

“Yeah?”

“i sleep on it all the time.”

“I THINK HE FORGETS HE HAS HIS OWN BED TO SLEEP IN,” calls his brother’s voice, prompting a few short giggles from your chest.

The lazy smile grows. “just proves how true my words are.”

“Or just how lazy you are.”

“heh. yeah.” 

Allowing your schoolbag to slide down your arm and onto the floor, you lower yourself onto the cushions with a sigh. “Thanks again, Sans.”

“don’t sweat it, kid. make yourself at home.”

“And—”

“kiddo.” Plopping himself next to you, you watch as the couch seemingly sucks him in, forming around his figure and showing the epitome of what it means to be comfortable. “one more apology and i’ll have to take drastic measures.”

Leaning back yourself, it doesn’t take much shifting to get content. “Drastic measures?”

“yep.” Closing his eyes, his smile remains. “i have many pranks you have yet to see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the way I write, is that basically I have an idea of what I want to happen, and then whatever happens before and after that event is really up to how the story decides to play out. I had not planned to have reader crash at the skele household, so I'm curious to see what'll happen with it.
> 
> Hopefully you guys are too .A.


	12. Amenity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached over 3000 hits and we're almost at 250 kudos! You guys are amazing!

It wasn’t uncommon to find himself wide away at this hour, staring at the ceiling fan swishing lazily above. White pinpricks set in deep eye sockets follow a blade almost absentmindedly, mind filled with events of the day with a nagging feeling in his chest that refused to disappear and happened to only aid in his confusion. Instead of contemplating the past, as he regrettably did more often than he should, he was instead thinking of how strangely optimistic you were for your situation, and wondering why he was seemingly unquenchably curious about you in general.

The first thing he had learned about you, aside from hiring his friend on the spot, was that your father had gifted his daughter a rundown building to do whatever with. He’d happened to overhear Undyne’s confused words to Alphys about that very topic, but when no satisfactory answer was forthcoming, she simply shrugged and directed the conversation elsewhere. It was strange that nobody else seemed to question it either. From what he’d gathered of life on the surface, only extremely wealthy people could afford a building. Hell, families usually had to draw out loans to purchase a house, yet here was someone who had enough money to buy a plot of land with a forgotten structure just because he could. Not only that, but you seemingly had enough money to fix up the place, even though you lived in a small, affordable apartment and owned quite a run down car.

Your father was wealthy, but how filled was his bank account? Who exactly was he? Did he get his money by illegal means? For someone who could toss money like that without blinking an eye, well, it was a bit suspicious.

Yet, when he watched you interact with the others, he knew that you couldn’t have stemmed from the shadows. You were reserved and careful with your words and actions, but you followed what you believed was right. He had watched while you took a bucket of water head on and proceeded to say you didn’t regret what had prompted that response. He’d watched you range from fearful to acceptance in the span of an hour after finding your apartment trashed. Regardless of whatever was hidden behind your smile, the dedication to your own personal justice clearly showed in your actions.

That made it really hard to dislike you.

It wasn’t hard to discern how easily you found your place within the group. You strove to understand more than just what was shown at first glance, making sure to not to step over boundaries in the process. For him and his friends, your patience was a blessing in a world where society deemed monster life less important than human life. Acceptance led to acceptance, washing away the instinctual need to hide or bend to certain expectations that had come with the breaking of the barrier.

Sudden light filtering in through the cracks in the door draws his attention, stuttering his train of thought. Watching as shadows quickly move and disappear, the sound of the flushing toilet is the only sound you make as you tiptoe back to your makeshift bed, flicking the lights back off in the process. Shifting so his skull rests on his interlocked fingers, Sans’ pinpricks stay level to the door as he listens to the ceiling fan momentarily before reaching for his phone.

 

_**\--From: Punster** _  
_**\--To: Fumbles** _  
_hey_

 

He doesn’t have to stare at his home screen for long.

 

_**\--From: Fumbles** _  
_**\--To: Punster** _  
_Hi? Did I wake you up? Sorry if I did D:_

 

_**\--From: Punster** _  
_**\--To: Fumbles** _  
_nah your fine. was just wondering if you knew the joke about the toilet._

 

_**\--From: Fumbles** _  
_**\--To: Punster** _  
_No, I don’t think I do._

 

The suspicious eyebrow raise of yours is clear even through your words alone. Sans can’t help but to smirk, letting a minute or two tick by before answering.

 

_**\--From: Punster** _  
_**\--To: Fumbles** _  
_ya know what nah its too dirty._

 

_**\--From: Fumbles** _  
_**\--To: Punster** _  
_Will you ever run out of jokes?_

 

_**\--From: Punster** _  
_**\--To: Fumbles** _  
_the day hell freezes over._

 

_**\--From: Fumbles** _  
_**\--To: Punster** _  
_I can see it. You know, if you want to come out here to talk, you can._

 

_**\--From: Punster** _  
_**\--To: Fumbles** _  
_but that requires me to get up._

 

_**\--From: Fumbles** _  
_**\--To: Punster** _ ****  
_Everyone’s right when they call you a lazybones, jeez._

Grinning, a finger pushes the lock button as he almost literally rolls off the bed. Tossing the cell onto his now empty mattress, he shuffles across the dark room and lazily opens the door. Light from the living room peeks from the end of the hallway and he stops himself from squinting as he approaches it.

Sitting with legs tucked under you, a book rests on your lap as a hand moves uncertainly. As he steps closer he recognizes your movements, the slow forming ASL alphabet displaying from your shifting fingers. Your other hand holds your phone, obvious expectation of another text from him, thumb rubbing nearly absentmindedly against the casing as your eyes study the pictures on the current page. Trapped between your teeth was your bottom lip, a sign of your concentration, and as your brows furrow when you stop to switch between U and V, he finds a chuckle bubbling beneath his ribcage.

“the alphabet’s the easy part,” he finds himself saying, allowing the chuckle to form as your back stiffens in surprise.

“Sans, you’re going to give me a heart attack one day, I swear.” Shifting to one end of the couch, you incline your head to the other. He accepts your offer and sits down.

“you’re pretty jumpy.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” you laugh, setting your phone on the arm of the couch, no longer needed. “So you’re sure I didn’t wake you up?”

“positive.”

You hum. “So, how long did it take for you to learn sign language?”

He blinks in thought. “not sure. but considering frisk uses basically nothing but…” A shrug accompanies his words. It was a half truth. While Frisk ventured the Underground and realized nobody could understand their motions, their calm, albeit gruff from nonuse, voice was heard. Yet it wasn’t long after the barrier broke that ASL books were being thrust into everyone’s hands and their voice once again caged. Nobody had ever questioned why Frisk disliked speaking, and he suspected the topic would never be brought up unless Frisk themselves broached the topic.

“I get it.” Nodding, oblivious to Sans’ thoughts, you insert a finger between the pages and close the book. “Quiz me.”

Instantly the letters for O and K reach your vision.

A smile brightens your face as you recognize them. “Awesome! Okay, uh… I’ll spell your name?” With his nod, you have no trouble with the first two letters, but the third gives you pause, which lengthens to a minute. Eventually you huff in defeat as Sans’ smile begins to grow. “Apparently I’m not ready for the quiz yet.”

“don’t let it get to ya.” 

“I just need to enroll in an ASL class next semester, that’s all.” Stretching your legs out, a sigh whispers through the air. “Speaking of, exams are in, like, two months. Hopefully I can get this homework situation settled quickly so my grades aren’t affected.” Removing your finger to set the book aside, you pinch the bridge of your nose. Exams, along with the café and your apartment, spoke of a busy few months to look forward to. 

“you know…” Choosing the words carefully, he watches your face as he speaks. “papyrus would be a great help to you.”

Fingers thrum against the book’s cover as you contemplate his words. “I’ve already bothered you guys enough—”

“one prank.”

You blink. “What?”

A bony index finger rises between you two. “one prank.”

It takes a second for your mind to comprehend his words. “I thought you said if I apologized again you’d start pranking.”

“i changed the rules.”

“Since when?”

“since now.”

“Sans—”

“kid.” You fall silent as his eyes catch yours, and it’s a moment or two before he speaks again. “this isn’t usually my forte, but,” he sinks further into the couch cushions, “we, ah, as in undyne and tori n’ them, we…” The sentence falls silent, his smile wavering. White pinpricks shift across the room, flitting from possession to possession as he struggles with his words. “you’ve…done a lot for us, and if frisk has taught us anything it’s that kindness can go a long way, and…god i’m bad at this.” He really wishes he hadn’t left his trademark hoodie resting on the floor in his room. “what i’m tryin’ to say is…is that we’ve got your back. we may not have known each other long, but friends help each other out, and…”

A hand hides your ever growing smile as he stops once more, touched amusement swirling in your chest. Throughout it all your eyes never left his being, his motions and twisting expressions speaking more than his words. It was true you didn’t know him well, the only one you could say with some certainty you did was Undyne, but it was undeniable that you were here at this very moment because of his kindness. He’d dropped everything to help, was doing his best to make you comfortable, and while you did feel a tad guilty for putting him through it all, the warmth of the acceptance handed to you was undeniable.

Hesitantly, with a quiet voice, you speak up. “I think I get it. I’d have done the same for you if our roles were swapped.” Clasping your hands together, you continue carefully. “I just…feel like I should be able to handle things on my own, so when others try to help…I feel kinda guilty.” Surprised at your own honesty, you tilt your head away in embarrassment. “But I get it. I think. So…thanks. I really am grateful for what you’ve done, and I’ll be needing your continued help while everything gets situated and settled down. But I’ll…keep what you said in mind, alright?”

Silence stretches. Turning your head slightly to peek at Sans, you catch his contemplating eyes that seem to peer into your very soul. Willing yourself not to squirm and wishing your heart wasn’t beating so unnaturally fast, you keep your curious gaze on him until he finally shifts. Replacing the ever confident grin his face harbored and seeming to physically shrug the heavy atmosphere away, the skeleton speaks up, completely changing the subject.

“knowing i can text you puns without being ignored comes at a price.”

As if a weight had lifted from your shoulders, you laugh more heartily than was necessary. “Am I to prepare myself for the onslaught, then?”

“there’s nothing to prepare for. my puns are _pun_ tastic.”

“That one was kinda forced.”

“can’t win ‘em all.”

“I fear your days are numbered. Undyne has talked about how your puns make her want to murder you.”

“i’m too cuddly to kill.”

“Didn’t know skeletons were cuddly, being bones and all.” You pause. “Papyrus gives good hugs though, even if they’re a bit too strong. Maybe you actually speak some truth there.”

“i always speak the truth.” Flashing a sly grin, he adds, “which means i meant what i said about that prank.”

A droll stare answers his smile. “Should I be scared?”

He shrugs. “it’ll be funny.”

“To you, maybe.” Rolling your eyes, you check the time on your phone. “When did it get so late…?”

“it’s been late.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“always here to help.”

Chuckling, you shift and stretch, a yawn passing through your throat. “You’re a detriment to my sanity, I think. I don’t think that’s considered healthy.”

Removing himself from the cushions, he stands and shrugs. “eh, perspective.”

You nod. “Good point.” Retrieving the blanket from the back of the couch, you flap it out. “Thanks for keeping me company again, Sans.”

“anytime, kid.” Retracing his steps and reaching the beginning of the hallway, he looks back and flips the switch, plunging the living room into darkness. “sleep tight.”

“You too, skele.”

As you listen to his footsteps fade and disappear, the creak of his door echoing through the quite air, you settle yourself down, mind a flurry of thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah...late chapter is very late. Not sure if I'll be able to keep my Sunday deadlines for a while, but do not fear! I have not forgotten about this story and I have no intention of abandoning it!


	13. Typic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4000+ hits and 250+ kudos?! You all are absolutely amazing, thank you so much for all the support, even with my hiatus!

The prank comes sooner than you expect.

It comes in the form of pure panic, a wild confusion taking hold in your mind as you jerk awake. Limbs tangle in the blanket at your frantic flailing, pushing the terror to even greater heights. In the desperate attempt to free your arms and legs from whatever prison they’d been locked in, you find your back hitting the floor hard and your vision filling up with one horrified looking skeleton and another with the expression of absolute smugness. 

Frozen with a wildly beating heart, you first stare uncertainly at the rather pained look on the taller one before slowly drifting your gaze to his brother, whose smile seems to have completely invaded his face. Your eyes slowly, ever so slowly, dip to the item held in his boney hand. It takes another few seconds for recognition to flicker in your brain.

An air horn.

You groan.

“OH MY GOODNESS! HUMAN! ARE YOU ALRIGHT? SANS!” Papyrus quickly comes to your side, lifting you up gingerly as he scoffs at Sans. “YOU COULD HAVE HURT HER! ARE YOU OKAY, [NAME]? FRISK HAS TOLD ME MANY FRIGHTENING THINGS ABOUT HOW EASILY HUMANS CAN BE INJURED!”

“I’m fine, Papyrus.” Patting his hand and flashing a solid smile, you raise your eyebrows as you turn toward Sans. His pleased grin doesn’t falter in the least as you take a rather pained intake of breath. “Really.” It’s not a question but a statement. A very strained statement.

“i don’t regret my choices,” he says as he shakes the can, shoulders shaking with held back laughter.

“I think you should.” Papyrus’ hold was a reassuring one, helping to calm your ecstatic heart. 

He tilts his head in a moment of thought. “eh. i think i’m good.”

“I really should kill you this time.”

“undyne would be proud if you did.”

“I swear to everything under the sun, Sans, that I will never forget this.”

“i’m all for a prank war.”

The irritation you knew you should be harboring was ebbing, being replaced with a type of adrenaline fueled euphoria. A snicker turns into a chuckle, and that chuckle turns into a quiet laughter that builds in volume. Papyrus, not sure of how to respond, simply helps you to your feet uncertainly, bewildered as to why waking up in the manner you had was making you laugh. He definitely wouldn’t be happy, and would without a doubt be giving the silent treatment to Sans for at least an hour. Laughter would absolutely not be on his list of things to do if he were in your shoes.

Sans, on the other hand, takes your laughter as a victory, spinning the can with pride and letting his triumphant grin grow into an unbelievable length. As you wipe the tears from your eyes and hiccup with laughter, he bows, sending more than one wink your way.

Once you’re able to take in a measured breath, you tell Sans, “I’m now going to be forever afraid to fall asleep by you.”

“WORRY NOT, FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL PROTECT YOU FROM MY BROTHER’S EVIL!” Keeping one hand on your shoulder and bumping a fist to his puffed chest, Papyrus shoots a look toward Sans, who simply shrugs. “I SHALL BE YOUR KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR!”

“D’aw, thank you, Papyrus. I believe I’ll need your protection.”

“i’m not that evil.”

Both you and Papyrus raise an eyebrow.

Sans shuffles awkwardly. “emphasis on ‘that.’ anyway, kid,” turning to you with that familiar nonchalance, a finger points toward your cell resting on the arm of the couch. “your phone’s been going off for the past half hour.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

“cause you were sleeping?”

Rolling your eyes, you unlock the phone, counting how many missed calls you’d gotten from not only Flora but Undyne as well. Flicking your eyes to the time, you understand their worry. You were an hour late to the time agreed to meet at the café.

“Great,” you whisper, swiping to Flora’s number and pressing the call button. You only have a second to put a finger to your lips, signifying silence to the skeleton brothers, before Flora picks up on the first ring.

“Oh my jesus, girl! Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine Flora, sorry. Just…slept in.”

“You haven’t slept in since we were in elementary school. UNDYNE, SHE’S ALRIGHT!” A whooping noise travels through the receiver. “Do you realize how scary Undyne is when she’s worried? She was ready to barge into your apartment like a thief who gives no damns.” There’s a slight pause. “No, Undyne, I am totally not making fun of you. But seriously, it doesn’t look good when the manager and owner of the place is late, so get your butt in gear and come down here. NO UNDYNE SHE DIDN’T GET JUMPED OR ANYTHING. Seriously, help me. Much love!” 

You blink at your phone then pinch the bridge of your nose.

“her and undyne remind me of twins,” pipes up Sans, tossing the air horn can on the couch and shuffling to the corner.

“They’ve definitely hit it off, that’s for sure,” you sigh, reaching down for your bag to find it missing.

“here. i moved it so you wouldn’t land on it.” Holding out your bag with his eyes cast away, you smile and accept it.

“Thank you.” Slinging it over your shoulder, you nod toward the hallway. “I’ll be in the bathroom.”

“I’LL BE MAKING YOU BREAKFAST!” Patting your back with a smile, Papyrus disappears into the kitchen while you head off to get dressed.

Sans just shrugs and allows the couch to suck him in.

Without time to take a shower, you’re dressed within minutes, finger brushing your hair as you set your bag down beside the couch that still has a hold of the small skeleton. Ignoring the smile thrown your way, you head for the door, pulling on your shoes and checking to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything.

“HUMAN!” Papyrus, without missing a beat, hands you a bagel and a water bottle. “EAT THIS ON YOUR WAY!”

“Thanks, Papyrus.” Reaching for his hand and giving it a quick squeeze, you tuck the bottle under your arm and open the door. “I’ll be back!”

“HAVE A WONDROUS DAY! A HEARTY MEAL WILL BE WAITING UPON YOUR RETURN!” 

Sans just sends you off with a lazy wave.

It’d be suspicious if you took your car, even when running late, so instead you head off at a brisk walk. Running through the directions you took yesterday on the way to the skele household and hoping you were heading the right way, you finish your breakfast and down half the water before reaching familiar ground, and it’s another handful of minutes before you turn the corner that reveals the café. 

Your steps falter as you recognize the tall figure with her flame of hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. With hands on her hips and a foot tapping impatiently, Undyne’s head moves from side to side as she searches. For who is answered a second later as her eye latches onto your questioning gaze and her long strides take her right to you, strong arms wrapping around your torso and lifting you into a tight hug.

“She was right! You are okay!” 

You can’t breathe. “Uh, yeah—” you wheeze, “I’m okay.”

“Don’t ever do that again!” Releasing you and watching as you fill your squashed lungs, her arms cross and her brows furrow. “Flora kept saying you would be okay, but she did that thing that Alphys does when she’s lying. Y’know, when someone fiddles with their fingers.” She gives a demonstration, locking her fingers and pressing her thumbs together. “You seem like a tough girl so I didn’t start to worry until she started to.”

You give an awkward smile. “Flora just worries a lot.”

“I have a right to worry, you know!” Coming to stand beside Undyne, Flora crosses her arms and cocks her hip sassily. “You’re always punctual, or at least call when you’re going to be late. What was I to think?”

“That maybe I stayed up later than I should have doing homework?” you offer a bit guiltily, picking up the now empty, and crushed, water bottle that fled for its life when Undyne had grabbed you. 

Her green eyes stare you down, and you don’t need to glance up to know she already suspects something. With a small hum she decides to let you go, rolling her shoulders in a shrug. “Well, whatever. Hurry up and change, we have stuff to do.”

“Change?” you ask, following as the two red heads retreat into the building. 

Tossing a tanned coverall in your direction, Flora nods. “We’re painting. And I’m sure you don’t want to ruin your clothes.” 

Blinking, you finally take in the same clothing adorning your two friends, Flora in a green coverall and Undyne in a blue. An eyebrow lifts. “Why do we have different colors?”

“Why not?” Positioning the flathead screwdriver under the first can of paint, Flora continues. “I think green really makes my eyes pop, don’t you?” She looks over and flutters her lashes for emphasis.

“Your eyes are green, Flora. Your hair does enough in the emphasis category.” Turning to Undyne, you say carefully, “And Undyne has blue because…?”

“She looks like a fish.”

“Flora!”

“What?” Raising her hands up, she gestures to the monster. “Undyne agrees with me! I’m not being racist or anything!”

“It’s true.” Undyne comes to Flora’s defense. “We all sort of resemble animals here on the surface. Or things.” She scrunches her face in thought. “Alphys looks like what you guys call a lizard, and since I have scales and fins, I’m like a fish. Plus I like to swim. I’m an awesome swimmer.” Her smile is near predatory. “Flora says I could participate in… what was it? Olpyics? Olymps?”

“Olympics,” chimes Flora helpfully.

Undyne points towards her happily. “That! She said I could beat all those Olympis swimmers easily! And I could get fame and money for it!”

“Olympics.”

“Whatever! How do I go about being a part of this Olympices?”

The sudden sound of suction followed with a pop breaks through the conversation. Setting the top of the paint can aside, Flora starts filling the three roller trays. “That I’m actually not sure about.”

“Well find out! If I can make a name for myself for just swimming—!” The grin painting her face and the glint in her eye says it all.

“Undyne, do you know how to paint?”

“Of course! You just splash it onto the wall.”

You and Flora share a look.

“Right,” you say, dragging a tin closer to the nearest wall and grabbing a roller. “Undyne, just, uh, watch and try to do what I do, okay?”

You try your best to explain how to hold the roller, how shoving the roller into the paint is unnecessary and messy, and that rolling the paint more slowly will make the wall look better. Undyne has more than one thing to murmur about why just throwing the paint on would make things go a lot quicker, but she does what you instruct. Flora snickers the whole time, keeping a safe distance away by working on the opposite wall from yours. One time when she was stepping outside to clear her lungs of paint fumes, she decided to pat you on the shoulder for encouragement and casually smear some paint all down your cheek. That elicited a howling laugh from Undyne, who kept teasing you about it until Flora did the same to her.

Suffice it to say, a small paint war ensued in which you cowered in the corner as Flora ran from Undyne, dripping roller grasped tightly in her hand. Paint was, indeed, splattered everywhere, and you were thankful the floors hadn’t been worked on yet. That relieving thought only stayed for a few seconds before Undyne grabbed the whole paint can and moved to throw it, a screaming Flora holding her arms out in absolute regret and fright. You panic too, but that didn’t seem to effect Undyne in the slightest, resulting in a drenched Flora who looked absolutely petrified as paint dripped from the ends of her hair and a fish monster who looked like she just won a million dollars.

You can’t help but die with laughter.

Once tensions ease and Flora is as clean as she’ll be getting for the time being, Undyne agrees to replace the paint can, even going so far as to pitch in for the cost of replacing the floor, now that it was a lost cause. You turn her down at that, saying to instead help shave Flora’s head when she can’t get the paint out. 

“Paint is permanent?” asks Undyne at this.

You snicker at the pained look Flora shoots your way. “No, but it’s going to take me hours to get it all out.”

“Oh, dude, I’m sorry. I can help.” Undyne looks sincerely crestfallen, and Flora can’t deny her for that.

“Fine. Just, uh, follow me home then. Let Alphys know, cause I am not exaggerating when I say it’s going to take a long time.”

“Right!” Her phone is instantly in her hands, thumbs tapping furiously at the screen.

“So uh… We can be done for the day then, since Flora decided to dye her hair.” Pointedly ignoring the glare from your best friend, you unzip your coverall. “Do you want me to help you too, Flora?”

“You’ll just laugh at me the whole time.”

“That’s true, I will.”

Her sighs seems to deflate her. “Karma is awful sometimes.”

“Glad to know you realize it’s karma at work.”

“Hey! I am a wonderful friend! I just…like to tease. A lot.”

“Done!” Breaking through the banter, Undyne shrugs off her coverall and stuffs her phone back in her pocket. “This paint will come off, right?” she adds, looking at her colored fingers.

Lips press together in thought. “Honestly,” you say, laying your coverall out over the floor, “I’m not sure with the scales. For us humans, it just takes a lot of soap and scrubbing.”

“We’ll figure it out!” Too short to snake an arm over her shoulder, Flora opts to instead wrap her arm around Undyne’s waist. “You’ll be back to your pretty blue in no time!”

It was probably Undyne’s attempt at a one armed hug, but she drags Flora into something akin to a headlock. “Alright! Let’s get going!”

You take your time following them out, waving a goodbye as they drive past. Locking the door with a chuckle, you walk back to the skele household in high spirits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of you have been wondering why I've been on hiatus and if my stories will continue. I will DEFINITELY be continuing to write, for sure, and you can click [here](http://rhyske.tumblr.com/post/150875331460/ive-never-done-this-before) to find out why I've been gone AND be linked simultaneously to my brand new tumblr so I never go silent again!


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